


You Can Only Go Up

by Judayre



Series: Up From Slavery [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Erebor never fell, M/M, Slavery, Violence, dark au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wars between Dwarves and Orcs mean very little to the Dwarf slaves who live under Gundabad.  Until a newcomer starts reminding them that they are more than slaves and should dream of freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't planning on posting this yet, because it's really out of my writing comfort zone and I'm not sure it's good. But I won't really know if it is until I get feedback. So, in honor of [ao3 1,000,000](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/366) I'm posting the start of this and soliciting feedback.
> 
> Any and all criticism is gratefully welcomed. Please, please, please let me know if this at all works and what doesn't. I don't normally go back and edit things I have already posted, but this one I probably will.
> 
> (Also, I absolutely suck at titles, so I might go back and change that too if I can ever think of something good.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** for rape in this chapter.

He was a child, but not so young a one that he shouldn't remember before. But he didn't. His first memories were of the deep, rough slave cavern and the one who claimed him brother. He didn't remember his own name and line, so his brother named him and gave him one. And he grew up knowing nothing but the spareness of the slave cavern and the city it opened onto, filled with the Masters and all the varieties of death that could come to a slave.

His only memory of safety was the night, when he and his brother - not so much older, really, not enough that he would be a good guardian anywhere but there - would curl together in a nitch that might have been someone's escape attempt once. He was tiny, so his brother seemed big and was strong and slept between him and the rest of the cavern and he was safe.

Not safe were the days. They were dragged away in the morning, to the mines or the factories or the homes. Dwarves dug and smelted, crafted and built, cleaned and fixed, cooked and sewed, did all the things that were necessary. The boy, with his small hands and long, dexterous fingers, was put into a factory. All day long, they created items of war - items that killed and enslaved other Dwarves. Items they dared not make faulty, because even if they hadn't seen the consequences, they could picture them.

There were four types of slaves, he quickly learned. The first were those who had been so broken that they were dead inside. They were dangerous. They had no regard for anyone, including themselves, and would follow orders even when it resulted in death or maiming. He stayed as far from those as he could.

The second kind valued their own skin to the exclusion of all else. They would turn in others for any infraction - including, sometimes, those that had been made up - in order to get just a little more trust from the Masters or just a little bit extra. They were made overseers at the mines and the factories, and there was little to no way of avoiding them. He learned what was an acceptable bribe when his dextrous fingers reached for things they shouldn't, and he learned how to not be seen so that he wouldn't have to pay those bribes.

The vast majority of the slaves fit the third category. This was their life, and they would do what they had to to make sure it wasn't cut short. They kept their heads down, said little, did their jobs, and retired quietly to the cavern at night. If they had family, they kept it quiet - family was a weakness that could be exploited by anyone. They kept their hair raggedly short and didn't wear braids, so they were as anonymous as possible.

And then the last category. Sometimes, there were those who couldn't hide how big and strong they were. They were unusually large, or did something to show just how strong they were. (His brother was at least as strong as any of them, but he was also smart. He wasn't too big, so he kept his strength to himself and was a house worker instead.) They were taken to the Arena. In the Arena, they fought wild beasts, Shape-changers, each other, criminals of the Masters. Being strong was a death sentence.

The boy kept to himself. He was just another ragged, red haired Dwarf among many. He walked in groups and kept his head down, though his eyes were always searching. He didn't look for escape - he had seen some who had and didn't want to share their fate. He just had to always watch his back. His brother worked in a completely different area and it was hard for slaves to have friends.

As he grew, he realized that there was a way to not have to always be watching. The Arena slaves sometimes picked favorites. They spent so much time killing that sometimes it was hard for them to stop when they were put away for the night. No one touched someone claimed by one of the big slaves.

He started watching them, darting looks out the corner of his eye. He was surprised to find that he was interested in what he saw. But he associated strength with safety - the strength of his brother protecting him from the world. And their size made them seem stronger as well. As he took notice of them, he was drawn to them. So he took his courage, and presented himself to his favorite - one who had won and won and didn't seem likely to die soon.

He was pinned completely, unable to move. His arms were held above his head. He was touched roughly and taken violently. And he _had not expected it_ and _did not like it_.

His brother did not like it either when he returned to their corner. But there was nothing he could do. There was another brother now, smaller and more in need of protection than either older one had ever been. The eldest couldn't risk himself by confronting someone for the sake of the middle one anymore, and they both knew it.

The next day, he braced himself as an overseer started to move toward him. And then the Arena fighter intercepted and let it be known that he was not to be troubled on pain of pain. And the overseer fled.

And that. That protection was worth paying for with his body.

His lover lasted almost a month before being killed by a bear in the Arena. And then it was a simple thing to find another. He learned quickly that they would all be cruel and uncontrolled. He was their trophy - their prize for living - and they were determined to wring whatever pleasure they could get out of him before they died and he became another's. He learned to find what corners of pleasure he could and to put up with the pain.

Years passed, marked by little but who the Arena hadn't killed. The youngest grew to adolescence and the older two were adults, but it meant little. Nothing changed in the slave caverns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter is sex between two individuals with very different motivations and expectations. Neither is aware of the differences at the time and it doesn't get satisfactorily resolved by the end of the chapter.
> 
> Once again, please please please give me criticism!

His lover had died and he was looking for a new one when he saw the newcomer. It had to be a newcomer. No one was that big or that strong or that dangerous. The newcomer was well fed and his muscles gleamed in the torchlight that filtered through the cavern.

He leaned forward, attracted, but dismissed him out of hand. While the size and muscles suggested he would live a while, they also meant he'd be more trouble. The Masters would never let him live long. He'd be dead in the Arena inside a week.  
Still, he couldn't keep his eyes off this one. He had long hair and a full beard. He stood tall instead of slouched to keep off attention. No visible wounds, and he didn't move as though he had them. And he looked people in the eye. He looked the young slave in the eye.

And it was only then, staring up into the brown eyes, that he realized that, despite knowing better, he had come. This was a bad idea on so many levels, but he found he couldn't leave this newcomer to his fate.

He moved his own eyes to the side got show that he wasn't a danger, he wasn't challenging the other's control, and spoke his offer. He was met with a silence so long that his gaze darted back. He was caught in the other's dark eyes and couldn't move away. It was still a breathtakingly long moment before his offer was taken up and he turned to lead the way to his favorite nook.

The other moved in close behind, one large hand resting at the small of his back. It was distressing - a way no other had ever touched him. It was comforting - warm and affectionate as no one but his brothers were. It was confusing - this newcomer didn't act like anyone he had ever been with before. And if he had not be the one to offer in the first place, he would have run.

He was spread, ready and waiting, as quickly as possible, face buried in his arms. It was a strangely long time before he was touched. He heard rustling and movement behind him as the other stripped and moved closer, and he breathed out a calming breath, almost trembling in anticipation.

Calloused hands rested lightly on his shoulders and flipped him face up. He stared a moment before collecting himself and looking to the side. But nothing came after that, and his eyes slowly moved back to the Dwarf kneeling over him. There was ink on his body, over hard, defined muscle. The slave's eyes drifted admiringly.

The mouth that met his own was a surprise, and he gasped into the touch of it. The kiss was not hard and demanding like he would expect from a fighter. But nor was it a fleeting touch, a plea for affection like he imagined he sometimes gave when he was allowed to. It was firm and confident, warm lips, a tongue snaking inside his mouth, teeth tugging. It was unlike anything he'd had before.

The hands were on him again, although at first he hardly felt them in the focus on learning this new way to kiss. They smoothed down his sides, his flanks, across his chest and belly. And then one closed around him and he was surprised to find that he was hard. Hard, from these nothing touches. He hadn't even been entered yet!

He left himself open to this different kind of plunder. His eyes were caught in the molten darkness of the other's as they kissed, as he was touched, as his hips bucked on their own in response to that touch. Everything this newcomer did was strange, and he was so unsettled that when he was finally touched where he expected it he startled and everything stopped.

His breath gasped in his throat as he looked the question up into eyes that were too serious and concerned. He nodded and shifted his hips back into the touch, the familiar sting and stretch feeling so much more bearable with everything they were doing. The other resumed, moving slowly - oh, so slowly - and watching him with hooded, assessing eyes.

But he didn't even notice, his back arching as something made sparks explode behind his eyes. He threw his head back, keening, and couldn't say when it was no longer fingers moving inside him.

When he could finally think again, he found that he had been rolled on one side with the other Dwarf pressed close behind, one arm under his head and the other hand splayed across his belly and rubbing comforting circles. He tipped his head for the lips that were nuzzling and nipping at his throat, and tried not to think about how it felt as safe and cared for as being held by his older brother.

"Awake?" The voice was a low rumble against his pulse, and he hummed a reply, remaining bonelessly loose and submissive. The one word was almost the only acknowledgement, the other being a slight tensing of muscles that pulled him back tighter against the firm body behind him.

It was warm and relaxed. He closed his eyes into the apparent affection, still so close to sleep that he began to fall again until the voice in his ear roused him.

"You haven't told me your name yet."

And his tongue was so unguarded that he almost said it. But that very fact woke him the rest of the way and he tensed against the gentle touches. "Slaves don't have names," he said tightly. Names could connect them to others, and others were an exploitable weakness.

"Won't always be slaves."

At that, he pulled violently away, turning to face the other with so much rage that he didn't hesitate to meet the other's eyes. "Slaves who say that die," he hissed.

"And living like this is worth keeping silent?" the large Dwarf said, propping himself up on one arm.

"It may not be a good life, but it is a _life_. That is _always_ better than death. I _knew_ you were a bad choice!" He pulled his clothes on as he rose and stormed away. But he paused as he reached the entrance and turned around to see the shock on the other's face. "Whoever you have to kill tomorrow, _do it_. Don't die."

He was almost shaking by the time he reached his brothers, and the younger one pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around his brother, feeling the wiry strength of him. But he couldn't explain to them. They had to know who he'd walked off with, but there was no way he could put the problem into words.

He lay to sleep that night with his back safely to the wall and his younger brother still warm in his arms. The eldest sandwiched the youngest in and kept them both safe from outsiders. Safe even from his lovers. Even when he wasn't sure what he needed to be safe from.

There were whispers the next day. The newcomer had been thrown into the Arena but no one could even touch him. He had been through three Shapechangers, a pair of Dwarves - at the same time! - and they were already starting to throw criminals at him.

He heard the news with fierce pride. When others glanced his way, knowing where he had been the previous night, he just smiled at them. He took three more pieces of jerky than he normally would, not even bothering to hide it, and the overseer said nothing. She ground her teeth and glared, but he looked straight back as he hid the food in a pocket. None would dare touch him until the truth of the rumors was known.

The Arena slaves were released long before those in the factory. The factories were open from the morning long into the night, the slaves hunched over their work until they were stuck that way. So it was dark by the time he returned to the cavern and he was so hungry he'd almost eaten his extra food, but he still had his eyes open for the fighter.

His eyes scanned the room until he felt a large hand clamp around his wrist. The other walked so fast that he had to run to keep up or be pulled right off his feet. He stumbled and then rushed, desperate to keep his feet because he didn't know if the other even noticed him. 

When they reached the nook, he was thrown on the blanket nest that lined the floor and he thought _ah, now it becomes familiar_. But then his lover was on top of him, still dressed, face buried in the spot between shoulder and throat. He could tell there was no crying, but the breath that blew against his throat was shuddery and uneven.

He didn't know what to do, seeing his new lover so vulnerable. It wasn't safe. It wasn't right. It had never been like this before. He didn't know what was expected of him. He didn't know what to do. But he knew he had to do something, so he placed his hands lightly on the broad shoulders. And when that was well received, he thought about how he would comfort his younger brother and stroked his lover's hair.

The other Dwarf looked up, dark eyes grown darker with despair. "It's not like I haven't killed before, but not like this." He dropped his head again, murmuring against skin. "Not like this."

He couldn't keep the pity out of his voice when he said "you did what you had to."

"Is that why you came on to me last night? You felt sorry for me?"

"No." The answer was simple, because wasn't it obvious?

"Then why?"

"Protection." Wasn't that how it was always done?

Dark eyes met his. "I can't protect you from the Orcs."

"Of course not," he said with a frown of confusion. "No one can protect you from the Masters. You protect me from the other slaves."

"Am I meant to kill them too?" The question was asked bitterly.

"No. But you can and they all know it, and they know I'm yours." His explanation came out slowly, brokenly. Everyone had always known it before. He'd never had to explain it. And the fact that he had to made him uncomfortable. Wasn't this the way it worked? Was it really so different outside?

His lover was staring at him. "You gave yourself to me so you would have someone big and strong to threaten others with."

He squirmed as best as he was able, hearing the disapproval and the unhappiness. "Why else? Why did you accept?"

The answer, when it came, was quiet and the unhappiness was even more evident. "You weren't afraid of me. You came right over to me and met my eyes."

He shivered and closed his eyes. He hadn't meant to do either, but he couldn't say that now. If that was the reason he had been accepted, he had to keep doing it. But if his intent had been misunderstood, would he remain chosen?

It seemed so, because his lover went back to merely lying on him, clearly upset about the Arena. He kept hands on the other man's shoulders, unsure and uncomfortable but unwilling to say anything about it.

When he was finally let up he needed help to move. _Now_ , he thought. _Now he's ready_. His lover bent and touched their foreheads together. They were both still a moment, breathing each other's breath and holding that contact. It was strangely intimate - more than anything he had done before, and he thought he had done everything. It made him feel protected and known, the simple touch giving a warm sense of belonging.

And then the other released him and stepped back, a clear sign that he could leave. His head was reeling from what had just happened, confusion and unsteadiness warring with comfort and belonging. It took him a long moment to take the offer and run.

He returned to his brothers and pulled the youngest close. It took long moments for him to realize how close he was seeing the worried, colorless eyes. But his brother was returning his embrace and leaning into the touch of their heads. And then the eldest moved in behind him and wrapped him in strong, safe arms. This was the only place he belonged. Only here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is violence in this chapter. Also sex, but only at the end and I fade out before it.
> 
> I meant to mention last chapter but forgot:  
> Nori is about 80 here, which in my convoluted age calculations makes him around 23.  
> Dwalin is in his 120s, so mid 30s.  
> Dori is around 100, or just 30.  
> Ori is nearly 50, so 15. A rather young 15, and he hasn't had a worth spurt yet, so he's little still.

Every day it seemed that the factories were kept running later and later. He came back to the caverns stumbling, eyes barely open. He always sought his lover first, because that was the deal that was made, whether his partner knew it or not. For several nights in a row, he stripped only to find himself wrapped in warm, heavy arms and pulled to a large body. He didn't sleep - it wasn't safe to, not anywhere but with his brothers - but each time it was a closer thing.

They spoke softly. He talked about the factory he worked in - what they made and how much, the new higher quotas, the overseer, the other workers. He admitted with a smile how he was getting extra food. His lover got a deep kiss for the protection that allowed him to eat well.

He learned a lot about what this lover liked in those days, but at the same time not all that much. He liked kisses and they traded them the entire time they were together. He liked cuddling, which was a surprise - most Arena slaves didn't like to get close to others, too worried a bout a knife in the back to let anyone in. He liked to touch, and even though they didn't have sex they traded touches, some innocent and others that could bring the slave to hardness in an instant.

But they didn't have sex. Not when he was so overtired. That was what his lover said when he held him tight. But then what was he giving into the arrangement? It was enough of a concern that he found himself initiating touches that he was new at. Even if his lover wasn't using his body, he should still have pleasure from him. And his lover taught him how to give touch and how to receive it.

His lover taught him how to feel pleasure that wasn't stolen from the edge of pain. And taught him how to believe that pain might not come. By the end of two weeks, he turned his face up for a kiss rather than spreading himself in preparation for the only thing every other lover was interested in.

He hoped this lover would last, but feared he wouldn't. He was still undefeated, and the Masters would only send stronger and stronger opponents until he was dead.

"That's fine," he was told when he aired the concern. "The worst is other Dwarves. It feels wrong to kill them."

"Don't say that," he said, automatically looking around from where he sat with his lover's head settled in his lap. "If they know that, they'll send nothing but, and they won't hesitate before striking."

"No one is here to hear it but you." The tone was low and fond, a tone he still wasn't used to hearing from someone who wasn't his brother.

"If you don't guard your tongue here, you might forget to guard it later and someone could hear."

"You speak as though the enemy is all around."

"It is. Everyone is the enemy. You can trust no one."

"I trust you."

He caught his breath. "You shouldn't," he said, but the words came out weak.

His lover sat up, turned to him, and looked him straight in the eye. "I trust you," he repeated, voice firm. And then he lay down, half on top of the slave, face buried in his shoulder, and fell asleep.

It was the first time he slept anywhere but with his brothers.

He ran to them the next morning as soon as he woke. It was obvious how little they had rested and he threw his arms around both of them. If the eldest was punished for mistakes made because he was tired, the one at fault would be the middle one. No words were enough, and he buried his face in his brother's shirt in remorse.

There was nothing he could do. His brother worked somewhere apart from him, so he couldn't watch his back. He never could, but it had never meant so much before. He found himself overly conscious of his coworkers at the factory because of his guilt. And when one had earned a taste of the lash by being too slow, he leapt in without thought. The punishment was twice as harsh, the overseer glad to have a reason to hurt him after the control he'd had the last weeks.

She stood over him the rest of the day, knowing that his work after that beating would give her ample excuses to keep punishing him. By the time they were finally allowed to rest, he had to lean heavily on the woman he had protected. His back was a mass of lacerations and he couldn't stand on his own.

He could see how furious his lover's glare was when they met, but he was picked up by gentle hands. His lover made one arm a seat and steadied him with a hand to his shoulder. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the other's neck, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

They moved slowly slowly through the cavern to their nook. He watched it pass through pain and exhaustion and the beginnings of infection. And when they arrived he was unguarded enough to smile at his younger brother and the supplies he'd brought. His lover stopped, looking at the boy suspiciously, so he leaned out toward him.

"Ori," he greeted, forgetting that names were secrets. Ori didn't, though, because he just looked a mute plea.

His lover put him down on the blankets and stripped his shirt from him. He had just enough sense left to understand that this wasn't a prelude to sex, and stayed loose and pliant for what was to come. But it hurt. It hurt so much he couldn't even hear himself screaming as his lover cleaned his back with the antiseptic solution. He knew the other was trying to be gentle, but he passed out before he was half through.

When he woke, he was draped over the form of his lover. It was warm and comfortable, even through the pain. He rubbed his cheek against the broad chest and then realized there was a hand in his own, a small one that couldn't belong to his lover. He opened his eyes and looked down to see his younger brother curled up next to them.

It was a surprise. He shouldn't be there. He should be with their older brother. What must he be thinking, all on his own? The slave tried to push himself up, but gave it up as a lost cause. His lover was holding him tightly, even in sleep.

There was a hand in his hair, and he turned to see his older brother with them as well.

"I like the way he tends you," the older Dwarf said softly, leaning close. "He does it better than I could. There won't be much infection, and you'll heal quickly."

He didn't know how to answer. His brother had never said anything about his lovers before, certainly never approved of them.

His brother leaned close and touched their heads together, voice dropping further. "You've still a bit of fever, but you'll be okay. Take better care of yourself when I'm not there to watch your back."

He nodded in return, feeling almost overwhelmed by the concern of those around him. To be surrounded by brothers and lover, all coming together to take care of him, was something he had never thought to have. And though he knew he shouldn't get used to it, he let himself curl back to sleep in his lover's embrace.

By the time he woke again, the bell was ringing. He bolted to his feet, knowing he'd have to run to make it out on time.

"You're wounded. You can't work today."

He glanced back to see that his lover truly looked confused. "Outside must be a wonderful place if that makes a difference," he said. He wanted to stay, to crawl back to his lover's side and just sleep until he didn't hurt anymore. But that wasn't the way it worked, so he ran as fast as he was able and joined his crew in time.

He took a workspace as out of the way as he could, hoping it would keep the overseer from standing over him. But he knew it was a slim hope - he had been a thorn in her side the last weeks and anything she could hold over him she would. After the run and then the march here, his head was spinning and his back throbbed. He wouldn't be working up to speed, and that was always a reason for the lash.

The effort it took him to concentrate on his task meant that it was nearly midday before he realized the overseer hadn't come to check on him once. He turned to look for her, but she wasn't even visible on this side of the floor.

"She won't come near you."

He turned to see the woman he had protected sitting next to him. She hadn't even looked up from her work to address him.

"He came out last night, the big one you belong to, and asked who did that. He picked her up in one hand and nearly strangled her. He told her if she touched you again it would be the last thing she did and then he put her down and left, as easy as that. I think you're safe for a while."

He stared, mouth slack, for a long moment as he took that in. He had _earned_ that beating. But this lover was different from all the others. He looked back to his work with a small smile, thinking of the man who had stepped in to his defense.

By the time they were led back to the caverns, his back was on fire. He walked like someone twice his age, eyes on the floor ahead of him. The woman was there to watch his back - she owed it to him - so he could concentrate on just walking.

His lover was waiting for him and carefully swept him off his feet. He put his arms around the man's neck and smiled at him, meeting his eyes. And whatever was in his own made the other man blush from the top of his head down to his shirt. He leaned close into the embrace as he was carried through the cavern, trusting that he wouldn't be allowed to fall.

His lover tried to stop him from stripping, pointing out that he was hurt and probably still feverish. But he turned his mouth up for a kiss - the kind of kiss that only this one man gave - and the protests died.

"Do you want?" he asked against his lover's lips.

There was a soft groan in response. "I don't need gratitude for taking care of you."

"It's not gratitude," he said, fingers in the other's beard. "I want. I want you." He hesitated. "If you want me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He smiled up into the other man's eyes. "I trust you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time moves on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter of time moving on. Because it has to do that before the interesting things happen. Which they will in the next chapter.
> 
> Chapter has a lot of despair and fatalism.

A month passed. A month, in which he looked for his lover more worriedly every evening. He was still alive, but for how much longer? How long could he keep winning? Everyone had a limit - a point after which they grew too tired or too headstrong - and it only took one lucky opponent. This lover was different in so many ways, but that was asking for one thing too many. One night, he would not be waiting.

Until then, though, life wasn't too bad. At night there was someone to hold him. There were warm arms and careful lips to look forward to. His lover cared for the wounds on his back past even when his brother would have declared them healed. And they held each other and touched and had sex like he'd never had sex before.

Sometimes he spent the night with his lover. And sometimes his brothers joined them and they all curled together, warm and safe, in the little nook. He would sleep with his arms wrapped around his younger brother, back up against a wall as always. But this time, the wall would hold him and keep him warm and not just safe. Those were good nights, nights he felt like he had gained family, and he wondered if maybe he should share his name.

But he didn't. Because a lover wasn't family. A lover wouldn't last. The Arena always took them. So he kept his name and kept himself from even thinking about how much it would hurt when this lover was gone - because he didn't want anyone else, only this one man for the rest of his life.

He was good as gold in the factory. He kept his hands to himself and worked at a feverish pace. The overseer stayed away from him, but he had to make sure he didn't come to the attention of the Masters. The overseer wouldn't report him - not just for spite, at least. The Masters killed and asked no questions. They would get a raw, new worker who would be slow, but the quotas wouldn't lower. It would hurt her to report him. But they might see him themselves, so he made sure there was nothing to see.

He didn't take extra food anymore. Sometimes, if he knew the overseer was looking, he would leave part of his share behind. She would get any extra and it might be enough so that when his lover finally died she wouldn't be so angry to kill him herself. It was a silent deal that needed to be made, now before it was necessary, and he did what he needed to do.

There were noises around the cavern about freedom and escape. He tried not to listen, tried to pretend he didn't know where they came from, but it was hard. It was hard when his lover still sometimes asked him what he wanted to do outside. He always answered that he wouldn't think about the impossible, and his lover looked sad and held him tighter and stopped.

It was hard when his younger brother, eyes shining, would relate stories he'd heard. Stories that could have only come from one source. Stories that would give him false hopes. There had been escape attempts before, but they always failed. And even if this one somehow didn't, Ori was different. The outside might not want someone like him. But all he could do was listen and hold his brother close and pet his white hair.

It was almost a month before his lover came back with a wound that needed binding. He bound it for him, took care of it like his lover had taken care of his. And he held back the meaningless tears, because this had to be the beginning of the end. They had finally found someone strong enough to get through his guard and hurt him. He had won this time, but there was next time and the time after that. There was always next time in the Arena. Until you died.

Now, while he could, he gave himself to his lover. He was the prize the other man got for living, his trophy for winning, and he would give him everything to remind him that there was some good even here. And he wished and hoped that it would keep him just a little longer. (Because when he said he wouldn't think about impossible things, he lied.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A number of bad things happen in this chapter, including having to reset a dislocated arm (which is mostly glossed over, to be honest), and Nori getting thrown into the Arena. More fatalistic thoughts as well, but I think it ends on a kind of positive note?
> 
> Also, the pacing on this chapter is awful. I need to find this story a beta to help me smooth it out.

He wasn't sure what to think of the friendship growing between his younger brother and his lover. One one hand, it afforded his brother some protection, and he certainly needed it. On the other, children like his brother were not well liked among the slaves or the Masters, and he worried that the show of affection was a ruse to get close and hurt the boy.

On one hand, his brother needed more people, needed the stories and the closeness. On the other, it couldn't last much longer, and it was bad enough that his own heart would be broken.

They waited together, sometimes, the first he could remember his brother waiting for him when he was allowed back at night. The boy would hover at the man's side, narrow face wreathed in smiles, and wait for his turn to greet his brothers out in the open like they were free and safe. And it was a bad idea, and so dangerous, but he couldn't bring himself to hate his lover for giving them that. He tousled his brother's hair and turned his face up for a kiss. And he pretended this was real and would last.

But every day his lover had wounds now, so he knew it wouldn't. He cleaned them and bound them, and pressed his lips to the bindings as if that would make them heal faster. No assurances were enough, although he said nothing so his brother might still have that hope.

On top of all of that, there were more overseers and more of the Masters around the factory. There were rumors of rebellion, which meant increased beatings and more examples. He knew where the rumors came from, and didn't blame anyone for glares shot his way. He took his share of the beatings - more than his share, because the cause of them was his lover.

And then there were whispers of strangers in the hills outside the city. The war might have finally come to Gundabad. And the slaves shivered, because what would happen to them? Would they be thrown out onto the spears of Dwarf warriors to slow them down and try to break their spirit? Would the Dwarves even care about them? They kept their heads down and listened, and tried not to be seen.

He clung to them at night, to his lover and his brothers. The youngest's excitement was tempered with the knowledge of what was happening during the day up in the city. He helped take care of all of them as they came back at night with more and more wounds. The oldest heard the most, working in a house where the leaders of the city came and went all day. He told them the news when they were curled together at night, news of soldiers in the hills and supply runs gone missing.

He clung to them because that was all he could do. He held them, tended their wounds, and wished that whatever was going to happen would just do it.

It was just two months when he came back at night and found no one waiting. Two months that he had had closeness and warmth. Two months that he had had pleasure and given pleasure. Two months with those arms around him. To months that he had felt whole.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. All he could do was walk - walk and not run - to their nook. Once there, he could--

He could be astonished to see his lover, still alive, with one arm dangling useless at his side and the youngest arguing with him.

"There you are," his lover said, a smile through the obvious pain on his face. "It's out of the socket and needs to be put back. The little one says he can do it, but...."

He looked over, and knew what his lover was seeing. A small boy who hadn't had a growth spurt yet. He would be tall, but he wasn't yet. Small and thin, because they never had quite enough food. And he was so pale, with his white hair and his colorless eyes, paler than one who sat and did nothing, like a delicate doll.

He knelt at his lover's side, fingers tight on his good arm. "He has strength," he said, eyes on his lover and not on his brother anymore. "From his father." And while he worked on memorizing the shapes of tattoos and scars he knew his lover was seeing the pointed ears and remembering the pointed incisors on his younger brother.

The boy shifted, not liking to be reminded of it any more than they did. He looked down, hair covering his eyes, wringing his hands together.

Finally a nod. "I trust you." The warrior lay down carefully, pulling the slave with him. "Make sure I don't move," he said.

The boy's eyes widened in shock at the declaration, but he hurried to his task. The two brothers met each other's eyes as they held the warrior tightly. There was a nod from one to the other, and the useless arm was pushed back into place.  
"How will you fight?" the youngest asked, binding it down so it would stay in place.

He got a smile, small and forced but present. "It's not broken. I'll manage."

"It will swell," the middle one pointed out, nosing up his lover's throat.

"I will manage," the warrior repeated, turning to bring their lips together.

It was a farewell kiss, because how could he fight to through the pain? But he did somehow, because he was waiting the next night, arm bound down and blood staining his clothes, but he was there. And again the night after that.

It was almost enough to make him believe in miracles, but the third day a pair of Masters picked him up from his station in the factory and dragged him out. He rushed to keep up with them because their legs were longer and they didn't care if they dragged him through the dirt. He rushed with no time or thought to panic until he saw the Arena ahead of him.

He sobbed, tugging once against grips that were too strong for him to break out of. He was going to the Arena, and he wasn't sure why. They put knives in his hands and pushed him out into the ring.

He gripped the knives, looking around through hair that was almost long enough to hide his eyes. The sun was bright and the sand of the Arena reflected it to blind the fighters. There was the roar of the crowd, more than he had ever been faced with and it made him cringe down.

And then he saw who stood there and he knew why he'd been taken. His lover was proud and strong in the middle of the field, arm still lashed to his side and two opponents being dragged out. Two, with only one arm. He felt a fierce rush of pride, and then an even stronger rush of despair. Only one of them could leave alive.

His lover walked slowly over to him, his sword up and ready. He knew the minute he recognized him because he stopped and then moved faster. The crowd cheered as he came within swinging distance.

He held his arms down, knives loose at his side. He closed his eyes, trying to be prepared, but there was nothing. And the roar of the crowd died down. He opened his eyes and his lover was right in front of him. He tipped his head back to meet the other man's eyes and tried to get him to understand that he had to _do it_. There was only one possible outcome, because he couldn't kill his lover and survive it. He didn't think he could live without the other man anymore.

His lover leaned down and kissed him. He closed his eyes into it, heard the sound of sword hitting dirt. He felt a hand at the back of his head, sliding forward to cradle his cheek, brushing at his cheek, his collar, down his arm. They had never had a farewell kiss before, he realized, because this was it. He had never been so desperate or so certain before. This was it. This was the end. And his lover knew it as well.

They breathed each other's breath, ignoring the sounds of the crowd. A knife was now in his lover's hand and he felt as the other man weighed it carefully as they stood close, eyes on each other.

"I trust you," he whispered, because trust was the least of what he felt for the other man.

There was a breath of quiet as his lover leaned down and kissed him one more time. Then he spun and the knife flew straight and true. It went through the neck of the Orc in the leader's box, pinning him to the back of the seat. And still there was silence as everyone fought to understand what had just happened.

There was time for him to slide his hand into his lover's before the inevitable backlash. There was time for him to take one last look at the strong form next to him. He had stood straight and proud from the first to the last. Nothing that was done to him had broken him. And the slave felt himself straighten with secondhand pride. He could stand here and face his fate as well. They were together, and he could take anything.

And then the alarm bells clanged loud and fast and pandemonium reigned. The Orcs in the stands screamed and ran. There were shouted instructions as everyone raced to leave the Arena for safer ground. They were nearly forgotten in the chaos until one of the guards grabbed them.

They were returned to the cavern along with everyone else. They were locked in, though it wasn't even midday, and left to their own devices.

They had lived. It took a long time for the adrenaline to wear off, and then he found himself shaking in his lover's arms. His face was buried in his lover's neck and he was crying, which he never did. Both brothers hovered anxiously. His lover told them what had happened - just the very barest of it, but it was enough. He was soon at the center of a pile, all three of them holding him tightly.

They weren't fed that evening. Most of the slaves barely noticed. None of them could remember hearing the alarm bells before. They were too worried about what might come tomorrow to worry about dinner. There were groups out in the open - what did it matter who knew your kin when no one knew what the morning out bring? It was quiet as everyone listened for sounds from outside, and they clung to one another tightly.

There were no bells in the morning. The broken ones lined up regardless and the overseers swarmed the doorway, trying to see or hear anything. The rest of them stayed away stayed with their kin.

"Do you think we're going to starve?" he whispered when his brothers weren't listening. He couldn't bring himself to leave his lover. Not for anything.

He got a frown in response. "Why would we?"

"Well, if the Masters don't win, who will know we're here? And why would they care?" He leaned close under his lover's good arm. It wouldn't be bad to die together.

A hand wound in his hair and his lover turned and pressed a kiss to his brow. "We won't starve," he said firmly. And after everything, he couldn't help but believe it.

It was well past midday when they heard the sound of the upper gate opening. Everyone stood. Most were back away from the opening, so they could hide if they had to. The overseers were in the front, sure of their welcome whoever came in. The broken ones were still in their line - they hadn't moved from the morning.

Marching feet came down the entry hall, and he shivered closer to his lover. He watched, feeling his brothers press close as well, as the second gate was opened and the entry was flooded with armored Dwarves. They fanned out from the doorway, weapons in hand, and eyed everyone suspiciously from beneath their helmets.

His lover gave him one last squeeze and pulled away. He marched confidently across the room to the soldiers, and they sprang to attention as they saw him.

"Captain!" one of them greeted. "The city is secured!"

"Excellent," his lover answered. "Gather everyone. We return to Erebor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I really did mean to make more of a big deal about it (and it will come up again, repeatedly). Ori is half-Orc. He is shaped basically like a Dwarf, with that kind of figure and hairiness. His personality is mostly Dwarf - or as Dwarf as you get being raised in slavery. He is an albino. Azog is not the only Orc in the Hobbit who is pale, so I'm going with that. His ears and teeth are kind of pointy. He's very strong. And if he had been fed properly, he would be pretty tall. He will still likely be on the tall side for a Dwarf, but not hugely. [Use Stephen Thompson as a visual for what he looks like.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m65ez1j6Yn1r5w33wo1_500.jpg)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They leave Gundabad!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not so happy as you might expect after where the last one ended. There is some fairly major miscommunication in here, and it is not pretty.

"Captain," he whispered. He liked the sound of the word. It sounded like safety. Surely, even if the outside were more like what he knew than what his lover talked about, belonging to a captain would give him protection. His eyes followed the form of his lover and he stepped forward automatically to follow.

The soldiers looked at him and his brothers as they got close, hands moving to swords. He bundled the youngest behind him and gave a cringing bow. He looked up from under his hair and saw how they were discounted by the soldiers.

"Go on," one of them finally said. "Sooner we clean this place out, sooner we can leave."

He walked out on shaking legs. There was no reason to think it a lie, but moving on his own down this hall, with no one watching and no work waiting, was too much like a dream. The sun felt brighter when he left the tunnel, the air sweeter. He turned slowly in a circle, seeing the city he'd spent his life in for what felt like the first time.

The captain was off to one side talking to several other Dwarves in fine clothes. He glanced over and smiled, but didn't move away. The slave figured it must be important and turned to helping his brothers and the others to congregate where the soldiers could take stock of them.

There were more soldiers in the city, and they came out in pairs and groups, surrounding the slaves. They had been tracking down the last of the Orcs and looting the city of anything usable. An army needed lots of food, and living wild wasn't good for them. There were nearly two hundred soldiers altogether, and with several hundred more slaves being added to their numbers, supplies would be more than stretched.

It took several hours to properly ransack the city. The sun was setting before they'd bundled up all the food to take with them and picked through the remains of the factories. The slaves had all been given clean clothes, warm coats, blankets, and water bottles.

He had gotten a long scarf and wrapped it around his younger brother. It wasn't enough to truly hide him, but it was something. Everything was something. He clutched his filled water bottle tightly, sliding it into an inside pocket on his new coat, and folded the sleeves up on it so they didn't cover his hands. And he looked around at the milling crowd of slaves and the armed soldiers around them and wondered what they were going to be required to do next.

The captain appeared, clean clothes and gleaming armor on him and his arm in a proper sling. He looked amazing - strong, safe, handsome. The slave's eyes turned to him instantly, and he drifted toward him without hesitation. The captain smiled at him and touched their heads together. He clung to the armor and felt grounded as he hadn't in hours.

"We've all been in this place too long," the captain said, voice raised to address everyone. "It is late, but we are leaving now. Make sure you have everything. Make sure your families are together. The soldiers will protect you as we move to tonight's camp."

He ruffled the youngest's hair and then moved to the front of the line of marchers. The slaves grouped together in the middle of the line, soldiers on every side, and walked without complaint. It was over an hour and well past dark when they reached the place where the company had dug in.

The soldiers broke to their tents and duties and no one thought to deliver orders to the slaves. They stood awkwardly for a short time until they realized there would be no instructions, and then they huddled in their families and slept curled in their new blankets.

The next morning they were brought to the mess tent and fed. His brothers found a corner and staked a claim to it while he got food. The helping seemed to be intended for one, but it was more than enough for all three of them. He looked around at the soldiers eating and talking. It was loud and uncomfortable for the slaves, but he knew they had to get used to it. He wanted to get used to it. He would be no use to the captain if he stayed afraid of loud noises.

The captain didn't make an appearance until after breakfast. He was surrounded by other officers and talking to them as he was shown the camp. The slave saw and didn't approach, looking around to try and see what they saw. He saw that the camp was being dismantled and wondered about the Erebor that had been mentioned. Perhaps their fate was being out off until they reached it.

He wanted to go running to his lover, but he knew better. It was the day, and that meant working. Even if he didn't know what his work was now, he couldn't interrupt. He had to keep to himself, watch his brothers' backs, learn his place in this new circumstance.

The cooks were glad to have help cleaning and packing. He followed directions quietly and listened as they talked about the soldiers they fed and the trouble they'd had keeping the camp a secret during the months they were there. While they were busy, he pocketed biscuits that he could share later. Who knew when they would be fed again or what they would be given?

When the wagons were filled, he was thanked by being given _more food_. The cooks had a mix of nuts and dried fruits that they said was good for marching. They didn't know when they would stop next either, and had put together something that could be eaten while marching. He held it close and bowed his thanks, noting their discomfort with his respects.

And then he rejoined his brothers and snuck them the biscuits. He made sure the other slaves didn't see, because they would ask where he got them and then it would get back to the cooks. He would get in trouble for stealing, even if he belonged to the captain.

Where was the captain? He felt their separation as he hadn't in the city. But before he could go to look for him, his older brother took his hand and shook his head. He was right, of course. The captain was busy. And they needed to figure out what was expected of them. Running off too much now was dangerous.

So he stayed with them. He stayed in the midst of the slaves when they started the march away from Gundabad. They moved in pockets, alliances made and broken in minutes or hours. The overseers didn't know what to do anymore than anyone else, and they had no easy way to gain favor. They were jumpy and unsure, clustering together and then breaking apart, drawing close to the Arena fighters and then moving away. Some of them joined groups of others, and it became apparent that they had families too.

The fighters marched close to the soldiers, making a show of the fact that they weren't scared, which showed just how scared they were. They all knew the captain's record, and here they were unarmed among soldiers with swords and axes. They hadn't been told to fight yet, but death was more assured now than it had been before.

The broken ones, of course, did as they were told. They walked steadily without complaining. They hardly seemed to see anything around them. They didn't stop to relieve themselves. They didn't ask for food. They did nothing but what they were told, and the fact that they kept moving was sometimes the only sign they were still alive.

There were other family clusters; some obviously related, others like him and his brothers. But blood didn't matter, and the groups that shared none were just as tightly wound together as the ones that did. White heads tended to group together, harder to hide out in the open the way they were. So they watched each other's backs as they could. The other slaves still hated them, and no one knew what the soldiers would think when they were discovered.

It was getting dark when they finally stopped to set up camp. The soldiers worked together like a well oiled machine, but the slaves milled about with no instructions. They were finally pointed to an open section in the middle of camp and told to choose spots to bed down, and with no clearer directions fights started to break out as everyone tried to figure out the safest spot.

The next morning, when he helped the cooks pack, a trio of knives slipped into his pockets.

The days quickly fell into routine. In the morning they were fed. Camp was broken down, and he helped pack the food so he could pocket some. They walked all day. When it started to grow dark they set up camp and had a hot dinner.

After that, the soldiers tried to get to know the slaves. They taught them drinking songs, told them about families back in Erebor, took them aside for sex. And the slaves were glad to take the offers, wanting the protection. But his brother pointed out quietly that the soldiers didn't follow the rules, and he thought about the captain and how he didn't know what the deal was.

He watched for the captain. He sometimes slipped forward during the march so he could see him. But there was never a good time to approach, so he always drifted back to his brothers. And unlike in Gundabad, he wasn't waiting at night. There was so much he must have missed, so the slave tried to be patient, but as the days moved into a week with no word and hardly a glance between them it grew to be unbearable.

They stopped midday to choose a path and have a brief rest. He slipped away from the crowd of slaves to try and find the captain, to try and see him and maybe stand at his side for a moment. But he was too surrounded by the other officers to get close to, and he retreated with low spirits.

As he approached the mass in the middle of the column, he heard jeering. A white head was surrounded by a trio of soldiers, and he diverted to them immediately because it was his younger brother they were taunting.

"Leave him alone," he said, pushing through them and putting himself in between them and his brother.

"Or what?" one of them sneered.

"I'm the captain's...." But how could he finish the sentence? Lover? Property? Did it even matter, when he hadn't been used in a week?

He didn't have to finish it, because the soldiers started laughing. "I've never seen the captain so much as look at the camp followers. Don't try to tell me he's taken up with one now," said the one who must have been the talker of the trio.

His heart clenched, but now was not the time to think about it. His brother was being threatened, and he couldn't let that happen. Not when the boy was clinging to him in fright. He put his hand into his coat, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, but before he could draw it there was another voice.

"What's going on here?"

His heart beat again as the captain stepped up next to him. The soldiers snapped to attention.

"Just seeing to an Orc, sir."

"There are no Orcs in my company." The deep voice had never sounded so good as now, defending his younger brother. "See that you remember that."

"Yessir," they chorused.

"They are all under my protection. See that you remember that as well."

"Yessir," they said again. And then they turned on their heels and left.

He turned up to the captain, who put one large hand to his cheek. Before he could say anything, the other man was gone. He released the knife, putting an arm around his brother, and rejoined the column.

That night, he watched where the captain's tent was raised, and snuck in after eating a quick dinner. He sat to wait, then jumped to his feet and paced, then stood with his eyes closed, wishing he knew what to do.

The noise of the flap moving alerted him, and he opened his eyes again.

"Captain." The man stopped and looked at him and he fidgeted, bouncing on his toes. "You haven't come for me in days...."

At that, the other man stepped forward, both hands resting heavily on his shoulders. "You don't have to do this."

He looked up, eyes wide and lost. "But I'm yours. Don't you--"

"No. You don't belong to anyone. You're free." There was an aborted move to touch his face, and the captain drew back. "You don't have to do this for my protection. You can go back to the others and still be safe."

"Don't you want me?" He hardly recognized the voice as his own.

"I don't want your sacrifice."

He wanted to beg, but begging never did any good. So he lowered his eyes and whispered "yes, captain." And he didn't reach out and cling to him as he walked past, although he had to hold his hands tightly in fists to keep from doing so. If he wasn't wanted, then there was nothing he could do about it.

He stopped at the tent flap, and turned, taking one last look and giving one last piece of himself. It would be safe with the captain, whether he belonged to him or not. "They're my brothers."

And then he fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin, your intentions are lovely. But your communication skills are awful!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori learns to be alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some people having trouble taking no for an answer.
> 
> Also, there is Óin in this chapter! Which isn't so much a warning, but....

He didn't leave his brother's arms that night. They asked no questions - but he had no doubt they knew where he had disappeared to. What had happened was obvious. The oldest said nothing, just used his arms and body to shield him. The youngest gave up the stories at the fire to stay by his side.

They kept him close in the days that followed, one or the other always at his side. The youngest worked with him in the morning when he helped the cooks, and though they side eyed him at first they soon grew used to him and plied him with food as well. The youngest shadowed his footsteps all through the camp, and he learned to be cautious about where he went. Things he could get out of or deal with were extra dangerous for the youngest. Things he no longer cared about for himself, he had to care about for his brother.

The oldest was their protector as he always had been. He stayed between them and others, took to getting their evening meal. His were the safe arms the middle brother turned to, the one who had always wanted the best for him - the only one who did, it seemed.

And he felt like he was failing them, because none of it seemed to matter. He wondered if this was how the broken ones felt. He did what he needed to, ate when it was time, helped with the cleaning and packing when it was going on, marched and marched and marched until he thought his legs would fall off. But none of it meant anything.

He remembered laughing, even in the darkness of the slave caverns. He remembered being happy with his brothers even when things were bad all around them. But he could not be happy anymore. They were out of Gundabad. They were among Dwarves who were increasingly sympathetic and protective. They were out in the sun, free. And none of it meant anything.

Three days - possibly four, he couldn't keep track - and he grew so tired of burdening his brothers that he slipped silently away when they stopped for the night. Neither of them were happy, and it was wrong. With freedom should be happiness, but they were worried and miserable, and it was all because of him. Perhaps they would be happy again if he was somewhere else and couldn't bring them down.

He knew that made no sense, but he couldn't stop thinking it. Having his brothers was the best thing to happen to him, and he felt a traitor for not taking comfort in their presence. He felt a traitor because having the captain had meant just as much. And having lost the captain, he was lost.

"Looks like you aren't the captain's favorite anymore."

He looked up and found one of the Arena fighters in front of him. It was another one who was good at living, although she didn't have nearly as many fights as the captain.

"No," he answered simply, because there was no point in denying it.

The fighter leaned closer over him. "Still need protection out here," she said, leering down at him. "I can provide it, for the right price."

Should he? That was a ridiculous question. Of course he should. The world was a dangerous place. An uncertain place. And he was small. That had always been the reason to take lovers from the Arena.

But to have another.... He couldn't bear the thought of someone's hands on him. No one else. Only the captain. Even if the captain didn't want him anymore.

He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders to be smaller. He opened his mouth, although if he was going to accept or refuse he didn't know.

"You there. The redhead. Come here."

The voice was loud, imperious, used to being obeyed. He looked over, eyes wide at the interruption. The man was a soldier - high ranking by the quality of his clothes, medical corps by the insignia on his arm.

"Yessir," he said softly, bowing his head again, all thought of the fighter behind him gone.

The medic reached out and pulled his chin up, and he found himself looking into eyes as deep and brown as the captain's in a face more lined and careworn. Dark hair was fading to steel grey, and he wondered at the length of hair and beard and the braids woven into them.

The medic snorted. "No, I haven't examined you yet. You have family?" He nodded slightly. "Take me to them. I'll have all of you lot healthy by the time we reach Erebor or I'll know the reason why."

He slipped away from the touch and led the way back to his brothers. They gave him reproachful looks for leaving, but when they saw he was followed all expression wiped off their faces.

The medic snorted again, then started his examination with the middle brother. He felt the glands in his throat, peered into his eyes, felt his pulse, listened to his breathing. "You got whipped recently," he said after the basics were taken.

"How do you know that?" he asked, already taking off his tunic.

"You've all been whipped recently," the medic said scornfully. He pressed lightly at the marks and continued in a conversational tone. "And the captain asked me to look at them. Said you'd tended his, and they were looking well."

He felt something in his heart lighten. The captain had spoken of him, asked for his care. Mention of the man brought the start of a smile to his face, but he saw his brothers watching and dropped his head to hide it. "We did what we could," he said softly, acknowledging the compliment.

"What you did was damn good for where you were," the medic said, patting him on the shoulder to let him know he was done. "Look," he continued when the slave had turned. "we always need more healers, and you freed slaves need someone you'll trust. How would you like the job? I'll train you myself and you'll get the same pay as any apprentice healer."

"Pay?"

He was treated to a look that was mostly pity. "When you work you get paid. That's how it works when you're free."

"And what do you do with it?"

"Buy food. Buy clothes. Shelter, entertainment, jewels, books, education. You can do what you want because you're _free_. You don't have to do work you don't want to. You don't have to go with people you don't want to. You are _free_."

He considered. "What if you don't want anyone?"

"Wouldn't be the only one like that, laddie."

He considered longer, looking down and darting his eyes to where he knew the captain's tent was. He dropped his voice so his brothers couldn't hear. "What if you only want one, but you aren't wanted back?"

"Wouldn't be the only one like that either, laddie," the medic said sadly. He felt the man's hand on his shoulder. "Living helps."

He wasn't so sure of that. Wasn't sure anything could help the dark chasm of loss that had taken over his heart. But he nodded agreement. He would learn healing. He would get pay that would help his brothers. He would learn to live with what felt like only half a heart.

He spent the next days following Óin around the camp, learning what he was looking for when he examined them. Learning how to mix tinctures and bind wounds, how to tend fever and the inevitable bruises and breaks that came from so many people with weapons so close.

The youngest continued to shadow him, helping as he could. He carried and moved things, held those who needed to be immobile. And he kept his brother from looking for the captain, from selling himself for anything thrown his way.

But it was easier when he had a job. Daytime was work time anyway. He could concentrate on the medic work and he was fine. After a few days he found himself smiling with the other medics and patients, and it wasn't forced. It wasn't laughter, and it wasn't unrestrained, but it was natural. And it was such a relief to know that he could still live.

The nights were hard. He missed the strong arms holding him. He missed the feel of those hands on him. He missed the gravely voice whispering stories of _safe_. He missed the kisses and the warmth. Holding his brothers was good. But it wasn't the same.

Others knew he'd been set adrift as well. The fighter was only the first to offer, but there were others as the days passed. If they tried anything while he was working, Óin sent them packing. Work time was for work. They could play on their own time, if everyone wanted to.

He always added the last part, as if reminding him. And he did remember. He only had to go with who he wanted to. And who he wanted wasn't approaching him, so he always said no. Any soldiers looking for a quick tumble took it philosophically and went to find other partners. The slaves who asked weren't quite as easy to say no to. He had a reputation among them, and more than one large fighter hissed "it's all you're good for" before stalking away.

But it wasn't all he was good for. He was learning quickly, eagerly attentive to Óin as he slowly made his way through all the slaves. They dressed wounds lefts from the last beatings. They made high density food for some of the ones who were dangerously underweight. They talked about his brother and the other halfs and started to make decisions about how they should be when healthy and how to treat them when they weren't.

He had an important job. Even after only a few days, some of the soldiers started coming to him when they'd been fighting. They flirted, saying being treated by someone young and attractive made it work better. But when he just looked down and did his job they understood.

They ruffled his hair, and he thought about taking out one of his stolen knives and cutting it. He had let it grow because the captain liked it, but he didn't have to anymore. It was only a passing thought, though. The captain liked his hair, so he would let it grow long.

He stopped looking for the captain as the days passed, but that didn't mean he was unaware of him. He knew when the man passed by. He always knew where his tent was. He could point him out if someone needed him. And he found that even that awareness was soothing. He still wanted the closeness they had had - he dreamed of it some nights - but even just knowing they were near each other was enough, at least for now.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! There is finally some happiness!

Having a job helped. The days weren't so monotonous, although they were busier than ever. He wasn't able to help pack the mess tent because he was with Óin packing medical supplies. He wasn't just walking; he was moving among the freed slaves and encouraging them. He found himself among the broken ones more than once, trying to understand them and how to help them. Because he couldn't just give up on them.

He even moved among the overseers and the fighters, though carefully. There was danger among them, as there always had been. A few who wanted him didn't like that he said no, and he had to make sure he wasn't alone with them. A few resented his work, especially among the overseers who had always been the favored ones. He acted deferential to them, quiet and respectful as they were used to, and they let him help them.

He sought out the halfs with his brother, and treated them gently as he'd want people to treat his brother. They wanted to trust him, although some found trust hard. He was patient with them, brought them food and never lost his temper. As the days turned into weeks, almost a month, he started to be able to check their health.

In the evenings, he helped unpack the medical supplies and followed Óin on his rounds through the soldiers. He broke away before he got to the officers - seeing the captain would be too hard. He was holding together, but to be that close to the one person he wanted more than anything and be unable to touch him would be too much. He would break.

Instead, he joined the groups around the fire and listened to the stories. The soldiers liked to talk, and the freed slaves were eager to listen. There were stories - likely exaggerated - about the prowess and battle hardiness of the troop they were traveling with. There were stories about Erebor, its fine markets, beautiful halls, wonderful people. There were stories of history, the creation of the world, the creation of the Dwarves. All the old epics the freed slaves hadn't heard were brought out for their wonder.

And at night he curled up with his brothers as he always had, three blankets surrounding them with warmth as they slept. Sometimes he dreamed of hard muscle and black tattoos. Sometimes he dreamed of battles and mines, fighting and working with one strong body by his side always. Sometimes he dreamed of walking through markets, laughing and happy, an arm snug around him. Sometimes he couldn't sleep for missing the captain.

A month, or nearly, since they had left Gundabad and Óin pulled him forward at the midday rest. They were leaving the mountains finally and the rest of the march would be easier. They were almost halfway there, or so the medic said, and then he gestured and the younger man looked.

The sun was high in the sky lighting up everything with no clouds to cast shadows. There were trees to their right, more than he had ever seen and so close together he didn't think there could be room to go through them. Óin laughed and told him that was the northern edge of Mirkwood. They would certainly not be going through it, but around.

Then he was instructed to look further. He shaded his eyes and looked south and east. They were still high enough - although they would reach the plain by evening if the soldiers were to be believed - that he could see beyond the forest. And there, at the edge of sight, he saw a single peak.

"That's Erebor?"

"Yes," Óin answered, looking out with love shining in his eyes. "Home."

He looked again and tried to feel something other than apprehension. But despite everything, he didn't know what truly waited him there. Him or his brothers or the freed slaves. He didn't know what would become of them and he was afraid. But he said nothing and Óin was too wrapped up in his own longing for home to notice.

That evening, the first on the plains, the soldiers turned from stories of battle to stories of the other peoples of the continent. They spoke of Elves and Men, their kingdoms and customs. He listened eagerly, because they would have to meet them sometime, wouldn't they? I was best to be prepared.

As such, he was taken by surprise when one of the guards on duty tapped his shoulder and whispered to him that the captain wanted to see him. He stared, somehow terrified, and the guard patted his shoulder and said that the captain wasn't so scary as all that and not to worry.

He got to his feet and followed, wanting to laugh at the assurance. Not scary! He knew exactly how scary the captain was, and how good a man. And he was terrified, because he couldn't be sure he wouldn't fall to his knees and beg to be taken. And that he _would not do_.

The tent's flap was open when he got there, and he could see the captain pacing the interior. He paused before going in, filling his eyes and his heart with the man he wanted more than anything. He had completely recovered from his time in Gundabad. He was clean, healthy, dressed well, and he looked like everything good in the world.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He put a hand over the medic patch on his sleeve to ground himself and then stepped into the tent.

"Captain," he said, giving a salute.

The man stopped and turned to him. There was despair in his eyes and _why was he sad he shouldn't be sad how do I **fix this**_.

The captain stepped close, large hands on his shoulders, and said simply "Dwalin."

He looked back, eyes widening. But no, no he _knew_ it wasn't what he wished it to be. The soldiers - the men who had never known slavery - gave their names freely to everyone. This was not an offer of family. It wasn't meant to mean that they were as close as two people could be and always would be.

He knew that. He knew it, but all he could do was whisper "Dwalin" in a voice that was broken.

The captain - Dwalin - started to step away, and his hands snaked up to grasp the large biceps. It didn't mean what he wished - it couldn't - but he could still return it. He looked up into the other man's eyes and whispered "Nori."

Dwalin's eyes widened in turn. He _did_ know what it meant. "Nori," he said, voice hoarse.

Nori's eyes closed. He thought he could hear that voice say his name for the rest of his life. "Again," he begged.

Dwalin leaned closer, resting their heads together and whispered "Nori."

He sobbed once and leaned up to seal their mouths together. Their kiss was desperate as though they were air that the other needed to live. His hands slid up well muscled arms and he twined his arms around Dwalin's neck, holding himself as close as he could get. He felt hands at his waist holding him just as tightly.

They kissed until they couldn't anymore, and then they stood with heads pressed together panting or sobbing against each other, neither of them were sure.

"I thought you didn't want me anymore," he said, eyes filling with tears despite himself.

"You're _free_ now," Dwalin said, one large hand caressing his cheek and wiping spilled tears. "I didn't want to hold you somewhere you didn't want to be."

"I do," he answered, as though that hadn't already been proved beyond a shadow of doubt. "I want to be with you."

Dwalin - his lover, his _family_ \- held him close and they spent what felt like hours in one another's arms. They talked of everything. Of the march, of Erebor, of Nori's job with the medical corps, of all the things a captain needed to take care of, of the freed slaves and how they were learning.

After as time too long and too short, he looked up and saw how dark it had become. "They'll worry," he said softly.

Dwalin nodded reluctantly and released him. "Go to your brothers."

He made it to the tent flap before needing to turn. He leapt into Dwalin's arms and kissed him hard and greedily. Dwalin kissed him back, holding him secure as though he'd never fall. And after that last assurance, he was able to go back to his brothers, smiling as he hadn't in nearly a month and feeling more alive than he had in longer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The change in relationship becomes common knowledge.

It was still dark out when he woke, but he couldn't go back to sleep. After everything, he was so keyed up that he couldn't even stay still. He slipped out of his brothers' embrace and tucked the blankets close around them. Then, not bothering to put his coat on, he glided through the sleepers to the protective tents around them.

The guards didn't see him enter the captain's tent. Once there, he stripped out of his clothes and worked his way under the blankets. He woke his lover with kisses, enjoying the feel of warm hands on his skin as he was pulled close. They kissed deeply and lazily until he started squirming, wondering when his lover was going to do more.

When he started to push at Dwalin's pants, the other man stopped him. "Nori, no."

"But you haven't had me in--"

"And I won't now." Dwalin caressed his cheek. "We're going to be walking all day tomorrow, and for the next month. Now isn't the time for that."

"Then what should I do for you?" Nori asked, bewildered.

"You don't--" Dwalin started, then sighed. He pulled Nori close, cradled to his heart. "Just this. I've dreamed about it."

"So have I," he answered softly, curling into the other man's warmth. He put one hand out and it was wrapped in Dwalin's large one. "I've missed this."

Dwalin turned and kissed his brow, murmured "just this" and fell back into the sleep he'd been woken from. Nori remained awake a bit longer, memorizing the feel of being held, but despite his earlier thoughts he fell into sleep as well.

"Captain!"

They both woke with a start. The tent flap opened and Óin entered with no further announcement.

"Everyone else is fed and packed and you-- Stones of my ancestors, what are you doing?"

"This isn't what it looks like," Dwalin said quickly. Then he looked down at Nori. "Actually, it's _exactly_ what it looks like, but not what you're thinking. Give us some privacy, Óin?"

The healer gave a deep sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "So help me, Dwalin. Cousin or no, captain or no, if you hurt my apprentice...."

"Yes yes, I'm properly warned. Give us a moment?"

Nori got up as Óin left. "Cousin?" he asked, reaching for his discarded clothes. There was no other movement and he turned to find Dwalin watching him appreciatively. He dropped his eyes. "Would you like to...?"

"Nori...." He looked up at the sad tone and saw Dwalin gesturing him to come closer. He did without hesitation, settling into the warm comfort of his lover's arms.

"You never have to do something you don't want to," Dwalin said, resting his cheek in Nori's hair. "If I ask, you can say no. You don't have to offer if you think I want it. You can choose. You're free."

"I don't want to say no to you," Nori answered, arms around Dwalin's waist. "I want to give you everything you want."

A fond sort of sigh gusted through his hair. "Could you give me everything you are? That's what I want."

"Yes," he answered simply. There was a sharply indrawn breath and he looked up, meeting Dwalin's eyes and letting everything he felt shine through his own. "You have all of me, Dwalin."

Dwalin stared, then leaned down to kiss him. "Oh Nori.... Nori, later, when we have time.... There's so much to show you, share with you...."

When they finally joined the company to break camp, Nori had several braids woven into the length of his hair and his lips were red from kisses. His older brother frowned at him, but the younger just examined his braids, fingers moving to his own hair to see if he could reproduce them.

Óin was also frowning when Nori joined him. He eyed the braids and grunted, but turned his eyes over Nori until the freed slave dropped his eyes and started fidgeting.

"He didn't do anything," he said finally. "We just kissed."

"And he didn't tell you to say that if you were asked?"

Nori looked up again, mouth set. "He's _not_ that kind of person!"

Óin smiled slightly. "So he isn't. You shouldn't have to remind me of that, lad." He gave Nori one last once over and then clapped him on the back. "He's a good man, and a responsible one. He'll do right by you. But if he doesn't, you just let me know."

The march was indeed easier than it had been. The ground was flatter and the dirt springer under their feet. They covered more ground, which meant they were closer to Erebor than they would have been if they had still been in the mountains. But it also meant they were wearied at the end of the day. The freed slaves had own used to the marching they were doing, but the pace had increased slightly. Out of the mountains, with the first sight of their home in their minds, the soldiers were pushing the pace, wanting to be home. And the freed slaves made no complaint and did their best to keep up.

They collapsed to the ground when the halt was called and camp was made around them. Several fires were built at points in the group and soldiers not on duty sat to talk and tell stories while dinner was made. Nori looked up, but Dwalin was talking seriously with Óin, so he stayed.

"Tell us about braids," his younger brother requested, settling against his side.

Everyone at their fire glanced at Nori's new braids, tied off with string and the buttons off Dwalin's coat. Eyes wandered the group, and it seemed the soldiers had never realized the slaves didn't wear braids. They fell over each other, talking about braids and their meanings.

It turned out the meaning wasn't so much in the braid itself as in the placement and ornamentation. Certainly, there were different styles of braid and many of them were distinguishable at a glance, but it was easier to tell the flash of gold beads from the whisper of colored ribbon.

Nori's fingers strayed to his braids as they talked. He hadn't known, when Dwalin offered to do his hair, what it meant. But the braids were right up front, placement for family or lovers. And using his own buttons had marked Nori as his. He flushed a bit, pleased but embarrassed for the captain to be so clearly tied to someone like him.

His younger brother was happily asking questions about family crests and clasp styles. The soldiers had grown used to him, because he was always with Nori, and didn't even seem to notice his differences as they answered the questions. Nori had to wonder if. That would happen when they got to Erebor. Would the Dwarves there become used to the halfs? Would they even give them a chance?

There was a sudden silence, and Nori understood it when strong arms wrapped around him. He leaned back into the embrace, looking up and smiling at his lover. The soldiers tried to sit at attention and many of them openly stared at the pair. The freed slaves were more used to the sight of them and pressed to continue the discussion of family responsibilities in Dwarven culture.

"Are you enjoying the conversation?" Dwalin asked, voice low and rumbling through Nori's body.

He hummed a reply, thinking on what he'd learned about what the braids in his hair meant. "I enjoy being with you more."

There was a pause and then the arms around him tightened. "I'm going to have to get very good at telling when you're just saying what you think I want to hear."

Nori half turned and looked up to see Dwalin's face. His lover looked very serious and he reached up to smooth out worry lines. "You want to hear the truth," he said. "And that is what I will tell you."

That earned him a kiss. "Even when I won't like it?"

It was hard to say yes to that, but he did. "You'll help me?" He asked, leaning into the strength that was his lover.

"I swear it," Dwalin answered.

They kissed again and then became aware that they were the center of attention. They both flushed at that and stood together. "As you were," the captain said as they turned to go. They hadn't gone far before the youngest was at their side.

"I missed you too," he said simply.

And then the oldest was there, tugging at the youngest to give them space.

Dwalin laughed and wrapped his second arm around the youngest, asking the oldest along with a nod of his head. They went as a group to his tent, where someone had already brought his dinner.

They ate together as they had in Gundabad, talking of the day and all the things they had to do. The list was very different now that they were free. Dori had no task beyond keeping Ori in line, although he was starting to keep track of some of the other halfs as well. Nori went on about the medicine he was learning. Dwalin told them of all the decisions he needed to make as the captain.

When pressed, he told them about his family in Erebor. His father was in the army. He had a desk job after a bad injury had taken one leg. His mother didn't mind too much because it kept him home safe, and at least he was alive. His brother was in the ruling council and would probably be instrumental in helping the freed slaves settle in.

Nori reached up to touch his new braids and looked down. "What will they think of me?" he asked.

Dwalin reached over and took his hand. "They will love you," he assured. "Because I do."

All three brothers stared, and then Nori was in his arms. That night they all slept in a tangle as they had in Gundabad.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think they would make it to Erebor with no problems, did you?
> 
> This chapter has violence, mild gore, and much adrenaline and panic.

"I love you" was the first thing he heard in the morning. He thought something inside I him might burst from how he felt hearing those words. He turned to look up into the dark eyes that captivated him so much and echoed them, cheeks turning red because he'd never said it before.

Dwalin kissed him and everything was right with the world. He was safe and warm, his brothers close and safe as well, and he had Dwalin. He felt like anything could be born if those things were true.

His brothers' hair wasn't long enough for thick braids. His wasn't either, but he had been letting it grow since Dwalin's appearance in the slave cavern. Still, Dwalin pulled out his comb and showed all of them some of the basic braids, helping them find string and baubles to tie them off with. They cleaned each other up and moved out to join the rest of the troop.

Nori couldn't keep from beaming when he joined Óin for morning preparations, mixing tonics for aching limbs and tinctures for bruises, making sure the bandages were wound and clean, running needles through fire to sterilize them. Óin looked at him and shook his head. "Save me from Dwarves in love," he muttered, but he smiled as he said it so Nori just smiled back at him.

"Óin, what do I do in return? What would I do if I were any other Dwarf?"

"You don't have to do anything. You let him braid your hair, which means you love him enough to let him do it. Poor enough job he did, but when we're home and he has proper beads he'll do it right." When Nori just kept looking at him he sighed. "In Erebor you can learn the skills to answer him. It's not like you could even braid his hair out here. He doesn't carry beads, and you don't have anything of your own to give him."

He patted Nori on the shoulder and they went to eat breakfast. Dwalin tried to make it seem casual when he joined them but Nori beamed up at him and no one was fooled.

Nori was all over the column as they moved into the day's march. The freed slaves wanted to examine his braids and the buttons tying them off, the children especially. He had to pick up several and carry them while they poked at his hair and then examined their own.

The soldiers, on the other hand, apparently didn't want to think about it. Their eyes slid over his hair and they didn't want to talk to him like they usually did. He laughed a little at the thought. He belonged to the captain, and they had a hard time reconciling that to the man they knew, that much was obvious.

It was late in he he afternoon and they were thinking about stopping for the night when they heard the first howl. It was too close to be a coincidence, and panic reigned in the column. The soldiers threw off their packs and struggled to get their weapons ready, tripping over all of the discarded packs.

The freed slaves had no weapons. The fighters picked up rocks and sticks, determined to make their deaths worthwhile. The overseers dithered over what to do. They had been the favored slaves, and maybe they would be okay if they gave themselves over? Most of them just hunkered down and tried to hide, crying and clinging to anyone near them.

The broken ones kept moving, no one having the presence of mind to stop them. As such, they were the first brought down. The Wargs of the band of Orcs ripped through them like they were nothing, throwing them in the air, biting them in half, gnawing their faces off. And through it all, the broken ones made no sound.

Nori looked around frantically. Dwalin was busy trying to coordinate everyone. He couldn't come now. Nori gripped his knives and ran to find his brothers. He was the only protection they had.

He was so desperate to find them that he didn't see the Warg rider bearing down on him until teeth buried themselves in his arm. He ripped away, feeling cloth and skin tear and kept running. The Warg went for him again and he sliced at it with a knife. But knives were for close up, and he didn't have the knowledge to fight both Warg and Orc easily. It was luck that he cut far back enough to hit the jugular vein on the Warg, and when it fell it rolled over its rider.

He paused to rip the sleeve off his coat and tie it tightly around the arm. The bleeding slowed and he took off again, this time wary of the enemy. He stayed low to the ground, moving from cover to cover.

He found them finally, the oldest lying over the youngest and not moving. His breath stopped in his throat as he slid in next to them. "Dori," he whispered hoarsely. "Ori." He shook them, and his heart started beating again when they both turned to look at him. He crouched next to them, looking out for Orcs and aware of nothing but his brothers next to him and the enemy around them.

The Orcs weren't stupid. They knew which part of the column had been unarmed, and they were after the slaves more than the soldiers. Looking around, Nori counted five who were cutting down Dwarves and laughing about it. He trembled with fear and hatred, and cursed himself that he couldn't protect his people.

As he watched, one of the fighters scooped up a fallen sword and stabbed one of the Orcs in the back. The monster roared and turned, slicing the fighter's hand off with his own sword before dying.

"Nori!"

But he couldn't even look to see what happened to the brave Dwarf because there was an Orc coming behind him. He spun around and threw himself to almost certain death for the sake of his brothers.

When he was finally able to think again, all the Orcs and Wargs were dead. He looked at the gore around him and felt his legs tremble. He fell to the ground and threw up, tears running unheeded down his cheeks.

His brothers were alive. They were alive and unharmed, and that was the only thing keeping him sane. He didn't know how many had died. He didn't know how many were wounded. He didn't know where Dwalin was. He sobbed, arm starting to throb in pain, unable to move anymore.

And then there were arms around him and he sagged into them, turning to bury himself against his brothers because he couldn't hold himself up anymore. They were alive, and he didn't know how many others were. They were alive, but he didn't know what was going to happen next. He didn't know if Óin was alive, or Dwalin, and he didn't know what he would do without them.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other and unaware of what was going on around them. That was how the soldiers found them, and they shouted down the line to let other survivors know they had been found. All of them were helped up and led to the hastily erected camp.

Óin and the other two medics were running off their feet to help everyone, but the head healer still made time to come himself to see Nori. He frowned at the makeshift tourniquet, bringing him side to examine his arm and then sew it up. And then he put bandages into Nori's hands and sent him to help tend the wounded. It was something to do and it would keep him sane.

The soldiers who were able to had gathered the dead and lit a pyre far enough away that they wouldn't be out out by it. They came back after and sat at the campfires, staring into them as if they had the answers to everything.

Arms circled Nori again and he turned into Dwalin and sobbed again. His lover held him and comforted him, assured him that they were alive. He wrapped him in a blanket and brought him to his tent. They sat together, holding a stroking, making sure they were both alive and whole. When his brothers crept in they were pulled close as well.

Nori wasn't sure which of them was weeping or if it was all of them. And really, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were still alive, still together, still family.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter today. Work started again, which meant waking up at 5am, and today we had people talking at us for hours about things like insurance. When the kids get back on Thursday and we're back to actual teaching I won't end the day quite this tired.

It was lucky that it had been a relatively small band of Orcs - under fifty, with only around twenty Wargs. Dwalin said, in the morning when they lounged together in what comfort was left to them, that this far from the Misty Mountains they had to be a group in disgrace. They had underestimated what the Dwarves could do and had paid the price.

But the Orcs were not the only ones to pay the price. They had lost twenty two soldiers and almost half the freed slaves. It was a staggering number, even to the slaves themselves. They were used to singles and pairs being killed, used to the Arena taking many. But they were not prepared to deal with so many gone at one fell swoop.

There was a sense of confusion from the freed slaves in the camp. Families had been broken up by death, most of the broken ones were gone, many overseers had wavered for too long, the fighters had made themselves the first line of defense. It was almost beyond understanding.

Dwalin walked among his men, speaking low and offering what comfort he could. Nori watched him and felt that he should do the same, although he didn't understand what he could do. He couldn't be a prize for the living, because he only belonged to Dwalin. But he had to do something.

It occurred to him when he was doing his job among the wounded. He found a man with one hand, the end cauterized and bound. He took the stump gently in his hands and leaned close to press their heads together. They had fought together; they were kin. The fighter was near delirious, but he leaned into it.

After that, Nori stopped with each patient, leaning in and comforting them with touch. They were alive, and slaves had never been good with words. It wasn't a gesture they had used in the caverns, but it was obvious what it meant. The feeling that was between them when they were close that way, sharing breath, was enough.

They stayed in the camp for a week. That was how it took to get most of them able to travel, the ones who hadn't died in that time. The remaining wounded - a soldier who had to have a leg removed at the knee, another who had broken ribs and legs, three freed slaves who had lost limbs, and another row how had been blinded - had had room made for them on the supply wagons.

They were much slower when they resumed the march, the group tighter together as they moved, the guards far more alert. They couldn't let that happen again. They wouldn't survive a second ambush.

Nori walked with the wounded a good part of the day, and the rest of it he spent with his brothers and his lover. He had almost lost them. He couldn't bear to be apart. He walked with Dwalin's heavy arm across his shoulders. He walked with Ori stuck to his side. He walked with his hand in Dori's.

He stayed close to all of them at night as they crowded around fewer fires than they had used before. The soldiers told stories of the halls of the fathers, speaking in soft voices of the dead and the traditions that surrounded them. The slaves shared their own traditions about the dead.

Nori noticed that he wasn't the only one to follow a soldier back to a tent. It seemed that those who hadn't taken in some others as family were very few. Even Óin had several of the children sleeping close by- they had lost family and he wanted to ensure their health.

The march was slow, no longer a triumphant return home. They had thought that, having defeated Gundabad, they were in no danger. They hadn't expected the attack that had brought them low. They were survivors now, not victors. The walking wounded could only go slowly, and everyone's steps dragged as they walked.

The only peace that remained was in Dwalin's arms. He held Nori close and whispered words of love and safety. And Nori held him, reminded that soldiers were like Arena fighters but better armed and trained. He was going to lose Dwalin to battle, the same as he had always known. The words comforted him, but he wasn't sure anything could reassure him anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking up.

The march quickly retook its routine - wake up, pack, march, unpack, sleep - but they were slowed down for many reasons. The wounded, of course, needed more time. And more had been added to the mornings and evenings.

The first morning after the attack, Dwalin had asked Nori how he had managed to fight the Orcs off. Nori pulled out his knives, handing them over without a thought.

"Where did you get these?" Dwalin asked, turning them over in his hands.

"From the mess supplies," Nori answered.

Dwalin looked at him. "You stole these?"

Nori fidgeted. He hated to disappoint Dwalin, but the fact remained. "I needed them."

"What did you need them for?"

"Protection."

Dwalin looked at him. "You should have asked," he said finally.

"You were busy then," Nori said, eyes down.

"Then you should have asked someone else. Someone would have helped you."

Nori hesitated before answering, because he wasn't sure what he could say. Finally, he said "no one ever did before."

Dwalin gathered him into his arms, holding him tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I'll show you how to clean these, and then we can return them." He held up a hand before Nori could say anything and continued. "I'll find you proper knives."

And so he had. Nori and anyone of the freed slaves who wanted to learn how to use a weapon was found one. The soldiers trained them morning and evening in the moves that they needed to know in order to use their new weapons. They were all aware that there could be another attack at any time, which made them very focused on what they were learning.

There was only so much time to spend on it, though. They still marched all day with few rests. They needed to keep going if they wanted to make it to Erebor in good time. It was late in the year, and while the plains weren't as cold as the mountains it was still coming close to winter. Snow and cold would stop them where they were, and they needed the safety of the Dwarf kingdom in order to survive the winter.

As the wounded got better, Nori had fewer duties during the march. He kept careful eye on those who had lost blood, because he knew that that would make them more vulnerable to infection. He watched for fevers, and other hurts. And he paid special attention to those who had to be carried the rest of their way.

The freed slaves started coming to Nori when they needed something. They knew that he was the captain's, and figured that he would be able to help them. He was never entirely certain that he could or did, but he tried his hardest. They needed him, and that was a very important thing.

Still, it was a big surprise when the fighter who had lost a hand came to speak to him. He wanted to see Dwalin, though he wouldn't say why. Not until Dwalin came to him.

"Can you teach me to fight with the hand I have left?" he asked.

Dwalin looked at him and then nodded. "Yes if you want to learn," he said. "But you know you don't have to, right?"

The fighter looked at him, confused. "It's all I know how to do."

"But you could learn new things."

"With one hand?"

Dwalin paused before he replied. "I don't know what you're good at. I don't know what you would be good at if you could been allowed to do anything other than fight. When we get to Erebor, there will be people who can help you learn. You don't have to fight anymore. Not if you don't want to."

The fighter thought about it. "When we get there, maybe. But until then, I need to fight. I have people to protect. Can you teach me to use my other hand?"

Dwalin nodded. They started the next day.

The guard kept vigilant, but as they learned and healed they grew easier. Stories started to be told around the fire at night again. The freed slaves paid closer attention to stories of epic battles this time around. They heard about famous fighting moves and tried to figure out how to do them themselves.

Ori always asked questions, expanding the stories out to everything that anyone remembers about them. He wanted to know who the characters were, and there were often many tales about the key players in the battles. He wanted to know why they protected some and not others, and that led to more stories about the relationships and intrigues of ancient Dwarven courts.

And, three weeks after the battle with at least that much longer to go, it turned to romance. They got to hear the stories of the seven fathers and their wives. They got to hear battle romances and, because the storytellers were soldiers, they got to hear things that made even Nori blush.

Ori, as he always did, asked why the heroes had protected each other, and the soldier looked disgusted.

"They were _forged together_. The story even says so."

"What does that mean?" Ori asked innocently.

The soldiers were reminded of how little the slaves knew of their own people and fell over themselves to answer. "They had become one, you see. Their purpose was one, their feelings were one, their actions were one, so they were one. They trusted each other as no one else. They protected each other as they would protect themselves because in a way they _were_ themselves."

And then they looked at each other doubtfully, because the explanation really didn't make much sense. But Ori thought on it for a long moment, and then his expression cleared.

"Like Nori and the captain!" he exclaimed, smiling.

Nori had been sitting comfortably against Dwalin's chest, between his legs and wrapped in his strong arms. Now he leaned forward, wide eyed, because his brother couldn't just _say_ something like that. It was absurd to think that he was so important.

Dwalin pulled him back. "Exactly," he said, and Nori turned to stare up at him. "That's exactly what we have," he said softer, looking back down with the kind of smile Nori dreamed of sometimes. "Like we aren't whole unless we're together, we are one."

And Nori couldn't seem to catch his breath but clung as if he could physically make them one with his touch. He didn't know if they went back to stories that night because he had eyes for nothing but the look in Dwalin's eyes. He had ears for nothing but the soft words of love from the mouth of his lover. He felt nothing but the warmth and strength of the body holding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About half of this was composed with Dragon Naturally Speaking (a speech to text program) because TOY. Original composition is hard to do, though. You can type and change things in the moment but it's a lot harder when doing it by speech....
> 
> Also, this is probably the closest to soulmates I will ever write. Dwarves _create_ their soulmates through hard work and mutual trust and love.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nori has very little self worth at times in this chapter, which leads to some very negative self talk.

Ten days from Erebor they were reminded of the goal of the journey. The finally reached the first of the outposts surrounding the mountain. The slaves were instantly shy and half forgotten as the soldiers called out to friends manning the post and asked for gossip.

Nori hung back as Dwalin went inside to send messages. Strangers manned the post and he remembered all of the strangers they would meet within the next two weeks. He fussed with Ori's scarf as much as Dori did, wanting him to stay safe and anonymous. The soldiers had taken time to warm up to the halfs and many of the freed slaves still hated them.

"I don't recognize him."

Nori looked up to see Óin and a stranger walking next to each other and talking. The stranger was looking at him.

"Nori, this is Maerak son of Garak. He's the healer here and will lend us medicine and equipment so we can check our people better. Maerak, this is my new apprentice."

"Nori," he introduced himself, remembering to salute instead of bow.

"Nori son of who?"

"Son of Durin," Óin said before Nori could say anything.

The man gave him a knowing look and visibly dismissed him. Despite a feeling of relief at the attention being off him, Nori still bristled at the insult of it. He didn't say anything, but when he turned back to his brothers it was with a frown, and he tugged too hard at Ori's scarf.

Dwalin sent three messages. The first was to the colonel he reported to with news of the operation they had completed. Second was to his family, letting them know when they would be arriving and asking them to meet him. Third was to the crown prince, who was apparently his friend and cousin.

More for Nori to feel intimidated by - his lover was related to royalty. Even knowing there was no way they could be parted, the idea wouldn't leave his head that he would not be accepted. As Dwalin's whore perhaps, but Dwalin had been speaking of marriage and building a life together.

Nori wouldn't mind being Dwalin's whore. He said as much when they were curled together in their blankets that night. He wouldn't mind as long as he could have something from Dwalin.

His lover stroked his arms and held him close. He reminded him that they were forged together. Nori wasn't his whore. Nori was one with Dwalin. They were one and he wouldn't hear of such things.

Nori clung to him, kissing him desperately. He had been a slave as long as he could remember. He had been the Arena slaves' whore for safety. And now Dwalin, the best man ever, was willing to marry him. Saw the best in him. Loved him. And he wasn't sure how he deserved it or what he could do to deserve it, but he would be grateful for it all his life.

They left early the next morning, not wanting to slow down now that they were so close. They walked and walked, the mountain getting larger and closer every day. And finally, midmorning of the tenth day out from the outpost, they reached the north gate.

Dwalin sent the soldiers to the barracks to clean up and relax. The freed slaves drew closer together, the hustle and noise of the gateway frightening after months of just the company. Nori wanted to join the huddle, but Dwalin was already pulling him forward toward a shorter Dwarf with dark, greying hair. He was dressed in red, fine clothes and looked noble and important. Nori bowed deeply.

"No bowing!" Dwalin exclaimed with a laugh. "His head is big enough already. And don't go saluting either. This is my brother, there's no need to be formal."

Nori fidgeted. If there was no need to be formal, how did he greet the other Dwarf informally? Dwalin stepped forward and cracked their heads together. He pulled back, holding his brother's shoulders and smiling at him. "So good to see you, Balin. Where are mother and father?"

The other Dwarf made a huffing noise. "Father wouldn't leave his post for anything short of a dragon, and mother probably forgot what day it is. Who is this?"

Dwalin reached back and drew Nori forward, arm around his waist and a proud smile on his lips. Nori did his best to keep his head up and live up to that pride. "This is Nori. He's Óin's protege, an assistant healer, and we're going to be married."  
Nori couldn't help the shy smile that bloomed on his lips at mention of marriage, but he saw the frown on Balin's face. He curled into Dwalin's side, waiting for what could only be an angry outburst.

" _Are_ you?"

Dwalin barked a laugh. "We'd like your blessing, and mother's and father's of course, _when_ we marry."

"What is his family, Dwalin?"

"He has two brothers. They're back there somewhere." Dwalin gestured vaguely toward the huddle of freed slaves.

"His _lineage_ , brother," Balin huffed in annoyance. "Whose son is he?"

"Durin's," Nori answered from the safety of Dwalin's arms. He remembered Óin's introduction to the healer at the outpost, and while he remembered the reaction it was better than no answer.

Indeed, Balin's lips tightened. But Dwalin grinned at him, giving Nori a squeeze. "There you are, and there's no better line than that. I need to report, Balin. Can you make sure this crew gets to Thorin? He promised he'd settle them. And then take Nori and his brothers home."

Nori clung for a moment, but forced himself to let go. Dwalin had work and couldn't always comfort him. Dwalin took his hand and kissed his fingers, smiling down at him, and then left. Nori saw the mistrustful look Balin sent him and dropped his eyes.

He heard his lover's pleased bellow, although not the words that went with it. A moment later, he and Balin were joined by another who was even better dressed. He bowed deeply, trembling as Balin whispered to the newcomer. There was a reply and then there were hands on Nori's shoulders, raising him to stand again.

"I am Thorin son of Thráin, crown prince of Erebor, and I welcome you to your new home, Nori son of Durin."  
"Thank you, sir," Nori said softly, keeping his eyes down.

Thorin walked passed him and gave the same greeting to the rest of the freed slaves, getting them easily in hand and leading them further into the mountain. Nori was afraid for a moment, not knowing what was waiting for them. But Dwalin wouldn't have put someone in charge of them who would hurt them, so he clenched his hands and let them go.

"This way," Balin said, and Nori was far less sure of him but he followed anyway.

It wasn't long at all before his brothers were at his sides, all three pressed close as they walked. They went deep into the mountain, down long halls, up staircases, across bridges. And everywhere there were Dwarves with long hair and long beards and braids, gold glinting at them and clothes in intricate patterns. The trio shrank closer together as they walked, feeling like outsiders in their tattered, stolen things with string tying off braids in short hair.

Balin was silent as they walked, moving so quickly they sometimes had to jog to keep up. He didn't make unnecessary turns or zigzags, so he obviously wasn't trying to lose them, but the way he moved made it clear he didn't want to be associated with them either.

They finally moved through a darkly polished door into a large and well appointed home. There was humming from the next room over and Balin crossed over into it.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

"Dwalin will be home tomorrow," the woman said cheerfully. "I want to get things ready."

"That's _today_ , mother," Balin said, aggrieved. "He's reporting now and will be home probably within the hour."  
She blinked at him and then put down the knickknack she was dusting. "I'm too late, then," she said sadly, then shrugged. "He wouldn't notice anyway. Who are these?"

Balin looked at them, a sneer flitting quickly across his face. "This is Nori son of _Durin_ , who Dwalin says he's marrying, and his brothers."

It was hard for Nori to meet the woman's eyes, but he forced himself to do it. Though they were a lighter brown than Dwalin's, there was something of the same warmth to them and it made him smile. She returned it and then walked over and tugged Ori's scarf off with one fluid movement.

He squeaked and buried himself in Dori, but the woman pulled him out easily. She looked him over while he seemed close to tears and both brothers had to struggle not to leap to his defense.

"I have some of Dwalin's favorite cookies made. You all need feeding."

And then she let Ori go and turned to lead the way to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nori son of Durin. Let me get my Jew on and explain. Judaism uses patronymics. In other words, when I'm called up to the Torah, I'm called as "Judith, daughter of Martin and Sharon" (only in Hebrew). When a person converts, their parents don't have Hebrew names, so they are called "child of Abraham."
> 
> Transferring this to Dwarves, if a Dwarf is adopted by another line because of marriage or something else, they are called the child of the head of the line, whichever of the seven fathers it was. Since quite a lot of the slaves don't actually know their line, there will be a lot of Durin's sons and daughters running around for a generation (the next generation knows its parents).
> 
> Also, Dwalin is very [ Perchik around the 1:25 point](http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=plpp&v=AUGCpL8Qixw&list=PL67FBB1C64A8DC478). Only less serious, because he doesn't think Balin will really be difficult. He's probably wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin puts his foot in his mouth and is yelled at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knowing your are free and feeling that it's true are two completely different things. Nori's worries in this chapter are entirely unfounded.
> 
> Also! Guys! Look at [this thing](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/78146579530/sketch-for-you-can-only-go-up-a-dark-au-in) made by Blue Sparkle, who is _awesome_! (I don't have my own tumblr - partially because it confuses me - but I do go and poke around other peoples' tumblrs. Especially if, as is the case here, they are good artists.)

"You don't look like brothers," Balin said when they were all seated and his mother was preparing food.

Nori knew what he was seeing when he looked at them. Dori, with his dark hair already fading to white and his pale blue eyes. He had broad features and would be beautiful when he was properly fed. Nori was red and hazel, too narrow to ever be truly handsome, but he'd never had trouble getting attention. And Ori was half, with all that brought.

That was not the part that mattered, but before Nori could come up with the words to explain Dori had spoken up. "We _are_ ," he said sharply, tone flatly saying that there would be no further questioning on the subject.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then plates of food were set in front of all of them. The three freed slaves stared in amazement at the amount and quality and all looked up at Dwalin's mother, almost twitching in their desire to eat but certain it couldn't truly be for them.

"Eat," she said, and that was all they needed to dig in. She watched them for a moment, as they held their plates close and shoveled in the food as if it would be taken away. "And tell me what my youngest has been up to."

Nori swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and looked up to answer. Better for his brothers to be able to eat uninterrupted. He darted a glance at both Balin and his mother and then started speaking. He told them, voice low and hesitant, about Dwalin appearing in the slave cavern and how he gave them all hope. He told them about the soldiers killing the Orcs and freeing the slaves. He told them about the long march to Erebor and the things that had happened.

He didn't tell them the depth of his relationship with Dwalin. It was too important, too deeply buried in his heart for him to share. He did tell them a little, since they knew already, about how they had come together.

Both listened in silence, and Nori had a small hope that Balin would understand. It was dashed when the older Dwarf said "and now you understand how high his line is, you can't be content to just leave what you had in the past? You have to drag him down to your level?"

He barely heard the mother's scandalized "BALIN!" over the pounding of blood in his ears. He stood, hands braced white knuckled on the table.

"I would be _content_ to be his whore. I would be content to be his _slave_! I would be content if he did nothing but smile at me sometimes. But I could not be happy without him. _I love him_. But you couldn't understand that, could you?"

He looked up to glare, saw the expression on Balin's face, and realized what he had said. He had earned _such a beating_. He ran from the room, down the hall to hesitate at the front door. Then he heard his name called in Balin's voice and he bolted.

He had paid more attention to the people than the direction when they came through the first time, and he wouldn't have known where to go hide anyway, so his flight was blind. He saw as Dwarves stopped what they were doing to watch after him, but he paid them little attention. He wove between people and ducked around carts, not wanting to slow down.

After a few turns and changes of road, he glanced back. There was no pursuit, so he slowed to a walk. The road he was on had stalls on each side. Some had rocks and metals, raw ores and finished jewels. Others had cloth in every shade of the rainbow, and he paused to admire some rich purples he knew would look amazing on Dori. Still more were piled high with food of all kinds, much of which he didn't recognize. The aroma they gave off reminded Nori he hadn't eaten much of the food he'd been given.

But a quick glance showed him that everyone in this marketplace was very aware and many of them watching him carefully. He couldn't blame them - his hair was longer than he had ever had it, but still short by the standards of the Dwarves he could see. And his clothes were dirty and ill fitting, while those around him were dressed in a quality similar to Balin. He was too visible to lift something to eat.

And that would reflect badly on Dwalin. Worse than his outburst against Balin.

He didn't like the stares. Being looked at had never been good. He kept walking, though he didn't have anywhere to go other than back and he didn't know how to get there. Finally, he found an alleyway where he could curl up and be unnoticed.

He had no idea how long he had been there when he heard a voice call his name. He looked up sharply, hugging his legs close, and recognized the black hair and green eyes of one of the soldiers.

"Fakir," he greeted softly, rising to his feet. "I've lost my way. Can you help me find the captain's house?"

The soldier asked no questions as he led Nori back through the streets to the burnished door. Nori kept his eyes low as he followed, internally steeling himself for the punishment his words and flight must have earned him. He thanked the man for his help and waited until he was gone before knocking on the door, not wanting his disgrace to be seen.

It was Dwalin who opened the door and despite his resolve he began to tremble. He wasn't sure he could bear Dwalin's disappointment and punishment.

"Nori." There was only relief in the beloved voice and the hands that pulled him inside were gentle.

He couldn't hold back a sob as he was embraced and clung tightly to Dwalin's shirt. "Please," he begged. "I will be anything as long as I am yours."

Dwalin bent over him and he was completely enveloped in strength and warmth and safety. There was no verbal reply, but was it really needed when he was being held like this? He burrowed closer, letting Dwalin's calm fill him, feeling strength firm his legs under him. His outburst hadn't destroyed everything - not if he was being held like this - and nothing else mattered.

Dwalin led him back to the kitchen where his brothers flung themselves on him. He held them tightly and looked up to give some variation on the apology he'd practiced.

"I'm sorry, Balin." Not my lord. Not sir. "I know you were only thinking of your brother." But he didn't have to agree with it. He didn't have to admit that the other Dwarf was right.

Balin looked thoroughly chastened. "I shouldn't judge until I know everything," he said in return. His eyes moved over the four of them, lingering on Dwalin. "I can see that you've made my brother happy."

"I will try to do nothing else," he promised softly, feeling the arm around his waist tighten.

It was a quiet group who turned back to food. Balin and their mother listened while Dwalin gave what details he could in between bites of roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes, mutton and gravy, ale and bread. At the end of the meal he fed Nori bites of cookie.

"How long are you home this time?" was the only question that greeted the end of his long story.

"I'm owed at least half a year after all of that," Dwalin answered. "Give me plenty of time to recover, and I can spend some time in the forges."

"And that will be plenty of time to prepare a marriage," his mother said with a pleased nod.

Nori looked at Balin at that, but though the other man pursed his lips he also nodded. "A spring wedding is considered lucky," was all he said.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are no longer marching all day every day....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief violence, insults thrown, and a whole bunch of pre-smut. (Stopped before the actual smut once again.)
> 
> Also, [another](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/78343988196/more-from-you-can-only-go-up-did-i-mention-that) from Blue Sparkle! I have spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the two of these....

The tub was recessed into the floor, huge, and already full of steaming hot water when Dwalin brought them in. Nori stared in amazement, used to a bucket and rag in the slave cavern and not much different during the march. He looked up at Dwalin for instruction and was surprised when he started undressing him. He blushed. His brothers were right there!

But once he was naked he just got a nudge in the direction of the tub and Dwalin turned to Dori. They got the idea, and Dori and Ori stripped and joined him in slowly immersing themselves. The hot water felt amazing. It was as if he could already feel himself getting clean.

And then Dwalin stepped in with them, and Nori could see that strong body in all its glory for what felt the first time in an age. His body reacted automatically and he blushed again, lowering himself far too quickly. He watched Dwalin pass soft cloths and soap to his brothers and then turn to him.

"Let me help you," Dwalin whispered when he was close, voice low and husky. Nori rose at the tone, pressing himself into his lover.

The water was hot, the soap was fragrant, and the feel of Dwalin's mouth on his own was perfect. Familiar hands smoothed down his shoulders and back to cup at his rear, and he moaned softly, arms twining around his lover's shoulders to hold them close.

When they finally had to pull away they were both panting and aroused, flushed equally from the heat and each other.

"Your brothers are _right there_ ," Dwalin murmured, voice rough.

Nori honestly had forgotten about them and he glanced over in their direction. Ori was hunched over as Dori scrubbed at his hair. Dori's shoulders were set in annoyance, and Nori could picture the scowl that was undoubtedly on his face. He buried his face in Dwalin's shoulder, embarrassment overcoming his arousal.

Dwalin's hands felt wonderful in his hair and on his back, firm and confident. It was pleasure of a different sort, as he was scoured clean of all the muck of the road and all the darkness of the slave caverns. He felt different when Dwalin was done, clean all the way through.

He returned the favor as best he could, loving the feeling of Dwalin's hair and the shift of muscle under his fingers. By the time he finished he had heard his brothers get out of the tub. He draped himself over Dwalin's back and kissed him again.

"Nori," came the strangled response, and the fact that he had been the one to make him sound like that gave him more than a little pride.

Still, he didn't protest when Dwalin helped him out of the tub and toweled him dry. He was handed a green tunic made for a frame much wider than his own and smiled as he put on what had to be his lover's old clothes. And there was a belt to hold the clean, worn trousers on his hips. And Dwalin rebraided his hair, and then he was ready to be seen.

Dwalin's mother herded them all out the door in their borrowed clothes and they followed along without asking questions, keeping easily in step after several months of marching with soldiers. They looked around with no less wonder than they had had when Balin brought them through the first time. Indeed, they all felt easier for Dwalin's presence. He brought up the rear of their line, keeping an eye on all of them.

Ori fell back from his place in between his brother to grip Nori's sleeve and point at a group that was singing and playing instruments in the middle of a plaza. His eyes were glowing and he was enraptured and unaware of himself as he rarely was.

Nori listened to his brother's pleasure, glad there was something that had caught his fancy. He smiled and it took time to hear the angry mutters.

"Never seen that color on a Dwarf. And see those ears? Elf or Orc for sure. Why would we bring something like that into the heart of the kingdom?"

He was out of line in an instant, pinning the offender to a wall with one arm across his throat and one of his knives in the man's face. He snarled with rage, pleased that the well dressed Dwarf reacted with just as much fear as any slave he had ever attacked for threatening his younger brother.

But he was pulled back, the touch familiar enough that he didn't even think to fight it.

"We don't do things that way here," Dwalin murmured, easily taking the knife from his fingers and sticking it through his own belt. "There are other ways to solve problems."

"You'd best march him down to the cells," the other man said, voice shaken but still foul. "Looks like we've got more than one son of an Orc on our hands."

And then the man was flat on the floor, Dwalin standing over him with fists clenched and murder in his eyes.

Nori was viciously satisfied, but jumped and then cringed when Dwalin's mother snapped both of their names.

"Honestly, Dwalin," she said, hands on her hips, "if you can't act like an adult you can go home. Nori, you come here and stay next to me for the rest of the walk."

Head hanging, Nori went to his place and felt more than saw Dwalin leave them. He kept quiet and subservient for the rest of the walk, entering the storefront he was directed to.

"Madam Dóra! Always a pleasure. What can I help you with today?"

"Clothes," the woman said as though talking to a simpleton, and Nori smiled down at the floor.

"Of course, madam, but I know I had custom from you quite recently."

"I have more than enough clothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "It's these boys of mine. Not a proper stitch among them."

Nori glanced up to see the look of distaste that crossed the tailor's face when he looked at them. He quickly dropped his eyes again, feeling Ori press up against him from behind. He reached back and took his younger brother's hand in his own, trying to broaden himself to keep prying eyes away.

"The apprentices will measure them. We will decide on proper styles and colors."

There was a sharp clap and the brothers were dragged into the back and stripped almost naked before being being pushed onto stools and pulled and prodded and measured in ways he'd never thought of.

"What's that in your hair?" one of the apprentices asked.

His ran his fingers down the braid, feeling how the reminder of Dwalin calmed him. "My lover put it there."

"And at the end?"

"It's from his coat."

One of them looked taken with the idea but the other just shot him a pitying look. "Can't think much of you if he just gave you a button. Not even gold."

Nori tensed and looked down again. There was so much he could say in response, but it meant nothing. So he closed his lips and his ears and tried to just get through the ordeal whole. Getting to put Dwalin's old clothes on again helped.

They moved swiftly and without pause through the streets and back to the house. Dóra directed them to separate rooms to rest, but Dori and Ori went to one door and Nori cracked them all until he found Dwalin's. He shed his clothes as he crossed the room, feeling dark eyes on him, and crawled on top of his lover.

Dwalin pulled him down into a searing kiss and he melted into him, fingers digging into the cloth that still separated them.  
"You don't have to," Dwalin reminded between kisses, but he didn't release him or push him away.

"I want," he answered, rocking against his lover and feeling the answering hardness trapped in his trousers. "Do you want me?"

There was a groan and he was treated to another deep kiss, hands roaming his body and answering far clearer than words.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori meets Fundin. Also, what's been going on with the other freed slaves? I'm glad you asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my work is pretty long hours. And my students want to interact with me during free time for some reason. So my writing time has drastically decreased from last week when I was on vacation. I'm probably just about completely done with daily updates except weekends, much as I want to keep them. I will try to at least get every other day.

"Why was I stopped in the road by someone telling me my son attacked him and I owed him money? Balin would never do such a thing! My younger son must be home!"

The deep bellow made Nori tense, sitting quickly. Dwalin pulled him back down, stroking his back until he relaxed.  
"We don't have to go right away," he said, leaning to give him a lazy kiss.

Nori arched closer, opening himself gladly for anything Dwalin wanted. He still felt sated and lazy, content to curl against Dwalin's side on the large, soft bed. But if Dwalin wanted him, he was always willing. He pressed up and over so he was straddling his lover again, braced with his hair falling in his eyes and the rasp of Dwalin's beard on his throat.

But Dwalin held him tightly, leaning up to seal their mouths together and rubbing absent circles with his fingers that made Nori shiver. Dwalin loved him when they did just this. Dwalin loved him when they just walked hand in hand. Dwalin loved him when he had yelled at Balin and run off.

It was a renewed realization that a part of him felt he shouldn't need. But the fact that _Dwalin loved him_ even when he had done something wrong, even when he wasn't giving himself to him, was a source of constant amazement.  
He lifted himself slightly to look down into brown eyes as warm as a fire. "Did you want?"

Dwalin reached out a hand to cup his cheek and Nori leaned into it, eyes closing at how good it felt just to be touched. "You don't have to offer just because you think I want."

But that was wrong, because Dwalin wouldn't just take like everyone else. Dwalin was the best man he'd ever met, deserved everything Nori could give him, but he wouldn't just _take_ so Nori had to offer the things he was more than willing, more than _happy_ to provide.

Dwalin pushed himself up on one arm and arranged Nori to be properly sitting in his lap, safe and warm in his arms. He leaned close to lightly clunk their heads together. "I see you thinking," he said, voice soft. "You _don't_ have to offer unless you want."

Nori nodded hs understanding, nuzzling closer into the embrace. He could easily stay like this for hours, naked and nestled together like they were really one. He sighed happily as Dwalin started to finger comb his tangled hair.

When he was nudged, he moved away. Not far, though, as Dwalin rose and went to the cabinets on the other side of the room. Nori watched is lover move completely unselfconsciously, enjoying the view of ink and strength that was his lover.

Dwalin returned and started to properly tend Nori's hair. He combed it all out, loose and shining, smoothing it down with his hands and combing his fingers through it again. Nori closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, relaxing bonelessly into the care.

When he felt the start of braiding, he reached out for the buttons on the bedside table. Dwalin wouldn't take them when they were held out, though.

"I have better."

Nori bit his lip, remembering the words of the tailor's apprentice. "I like these," he protested. "They're from you. They're yours."

Dwalin laughed. "And these are as well. I made them years ago for the person who would catch my heart. I made them for you, even if I didn't know they were meant to be yours." Once he was finished he sat back and looked for long enough that Nori started to fidget. "Emeralds suit you. They bring out the green in your eyes."

They kissed while they dressed, lingering and sweet, supporting each other in it.

The new beads glinted as he moved, flashing green when the emeralds caught the light. He didn't mind the reminder that they were there, in fact finding himself shifting to see that glint as they walked to the front of the house where Dwalin's parents would be.

Fundin and Dóra were kissing when they got there. Nori couldn't help but smile to see Dóra perched atop a stool in deference to Fundin's prosthetic leg. Beside him, Dwalin sighed, the sound of someone who had seen something too often for their preference but had no malice toward it.

"Took your own time, soldier," Fundin said, sitting down with his arm still around his wife. Nori saw many similarities between father and son, both tall and broad, both deep voiced and self assured.

"I'm off duty," Dwalin answered pointedly, taking a seat of his own and pulling a blushing Nori into his lap. "You had a question?"

"Yes!" the older man said as if he had forgotten. "Some coward said you attacked him and demanded I pay restitution. Tell me why I paid a man for his teeth."

"He insulted Nori," Dwalin growled, arms tightening.

"Because Nori went after him with a knife," Dóra pointed out.

"He insulted Ori!" Nori protested.

She apparently hadn't heard it. "You did the right thing, lad."

That settled Fundin, and he stretched his leg out to relax before dinner, dismissing the two younger men like they were soldiers under his command. Nori had to struggle not to salute as they left the room.

Dwalin showed him around the rest of the house. It was very large, with enough rooms for several families, a nursery, three sitting rooms and a dining room he hadn't seen when they ate in the kitchen.

But while he as almost overwhelmed to be surrounded by such luxury, his thoughts kept turning back to the other freed slaves and what might be happening to them.

"They'll be somewhere safe," Dwalin assured when he posed the question. "Until permanent homes and work can be found for them."

Nori's blood ran cold. "So they're to be put to work," he said softly. His fists clenched and then he clutched at Dwalin. "Will they be kind to them?" he asked, eyes wide and needy. "Kinder than..."

It took Dwalin a moment to understand. "No!" he hastened to assure. "No, Nori, not like that. You're free now. You're all free!" He sighed. "Let's go find them."

Nori followed him out the door and into the street again. They walked in a new direction, hand in hand, silent. Dwalin flagged down a soldier to ask where the freed slaves had been put.

"The barracks under renovation. It was the only free place big enough."

Dwalin cursed, his hand tightening around Nori's. "Find my brother and have him meet us there," he ordered before moving along at a faster pace. Nori had to trot to keep up with him.

He understood as soon as they entered the cavern. It was rough with work in progress and empty of all furnishings. It was like being in the slave cavern again, only better lit and warmer. The slaves were huddled in groups, wrapped in their blankets and going about their business as quietly as possible.

Someone saw them and they were suddenly mobbed by anxious freed slaves exclaiming their worries.

"Nori!" Several of the halfs were clinging to his arms. "Nori, they were _looking at us_."

He gathered them close while Dwalin tried to calm the others. "I know," he said, thinking of the man Fundin had paid off. "But they will not hurt you." And how he hoped he wasn't giving false hopes.

He hugged them and petted them, doing the routine evening checks as Dwalin masterfully kept the group from destroying itself with its worry. They were finally quiet by the time Balin showed up.

"They need to be somewhere else," Dwalin said to his brother.

"And they will be, once accommodations can be prepared."

"They need to be somewhere else _now_."

Balin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not that simple, Dwalin."

"It is," Dwalin said, crossing his arms. "Because they cannot stay here. Óin would take some in, and all of my company that don't live in the barracks."

"Be _reasonable_!"

"It is like the slave cavern in Gundabad," Dwalin said flatly.

"It isn't," Balin answered, took shocked to think of a proper response.

Dwalin's lips thinned. "I will be staying here with them until they are taken somewhere else. You can explain it to mother when we're not home for dinner."

Balin sighed again as he left and Dwalin gave a small smile of satisfaction. "If I know my brother," he said to the group, "you'll be in proper homes by dinner."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's family is stubborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of stubborn Dwarves arguing in this chapter. And the last bit isn't the healthiest moment of Nori and Dwalin's relationship.

Nori had talked himself hoarse, telling the others about what he had seen of the streets and market of Erebor and describing Dwalin's home, by the time dinner was brought for them. The freed slaves offered a large portion to Dwalin, but he shook his head and told them he'd eat when he went home. Nori looked at the food that had been put in his hands and split it between a trio of too skinny children. He had been fed well earlier in the day - he would be fine.

The halfs settled in against him to eat, as if he were a protector instead of someone in need of protection. And the way the others looked at him was similar. How had he become strong? He was the same as he had ever been, wasn't he? It couldn't just be because of Dwalin - he had had strong lovers before, and it had never made anyone ask his protection. But the halfs were comfortable and open around him, speaking like the children they had never been and leaning against him trustingly.

They had barely finished when Balin returned, looking harried and triumphant.

"Your company can house most of them and the rest can stay in the regular barracks."

"No."

Nori saw the clear look of annoyance on Balin's face and looked away to fuss with his children.

"They do not have to fight," Dwalin continued.

"Of course they don't!"

"Then they will not live in a barracks."

"I don't see what one has to do with the other," Balin said irritably.

"These people were _slaves_ , Balin. They have all been used badly. Many were forced to fight for the entertainment of Orcs. Many of them don't know how to say no."

Nori felt eyes on him and looked up to see both of the brothers looking at him. He ducked his head, but looked up at them. Dwalin gestured and he went obediently, tucking himself at his lover's side.

"We'll take some of the halfs with us," Dwalin said firmly. "Nori's been taking care of their medical needs and I don't want to set them out on their own yet. People won't be understanding to start."

Balin frowned, but apparently didn't want to argue the point. He ordered the slaves to get ready to go and they formed up quickly as they had for the marching. There were several of Balin's underlings outside the barracks and they divided the slaves into groups to take them in different directions. They all looked nervously to Dwalin and Nori, and they nodded encouragingly.

As the others left, the halfs pressed in around the pair of them. They were unused to being so alone, and they didn't know what they could expect people to do in reaction to them. Dwalin and Nori were safety to them, and they didn't want to become separated. Being seen was dangerous, as it always was.

And they certainly got enough stares as walked through the mountain. And as they went into the richer and nobler sections the frowns deepened at the sight of their poor clothes and the pointed tips of their ears.

Balin stopped at the door, and turned to Dwalin. "You can explain this to father," he said and then disappeared into the house.

Dwalin glared after him, but made no move to follow. He turned to Nori and put a hand on his shoulder. "Get them settled inside. I'll deal with father. Don't worry about anything." Then he went inside as well.

The halfs clung tighter to Nori as the group of freed slaves was left alone out in the street. Nori herded them inside, closing the door behind them. Already, his brothers and Dwalin's mother had come to see what the fuss was about. They were all surprised to see the group with Nori, but Dóra got over her shock quickly. She smiled at the halfs and welcomed them to her home.

They stared and blushed. So few of the freed slaves had ever smiled at them, and the fact that this woman who had never seen them before was doing so amazed them. Nori had done a lot of hard work to get the halfs to trust him, but when they saw Dóra's smile they went straight to her.

Nori stayed in the back of group as Dóra led them through the house to the bedrooms. Dori and Ori joined him, leaning in to whisper questions about what had happened. He answered as simply as he could, telling them where the other freed slaves had been and how Dwalin had gotten them away. He was glad they hadn't been involved and held each of their hands tightly.

They couldn't hear words, but they heard the sounds of the argument between Fundin and Dwalin. Fundin did not care if anyone heard him, and although they couldn't hear the words they heard his anger. Dwalin's voice, when it came, was just as angry and this time they heard what was being said.

"It may not be good life," he bellowed. "It may not be the life we would like for our people. But it is _life_! That is _always_ better than the alternative."

Nori hugged his younger brother, knowing that this argument was as much about him as about the other halfs. And he felt that it was a good life. Ori's was a life to be proud of, even if he had had no opportunities yet. His younger brother had been one of the few things to make his life worth living when he had still been in Gundabad.

Dori had begun to herd the halfs behind Dora, shooing any who stopped to gawk at the house to keep up with the rest. Seeing this, Nori slipped away. He wasn't needed anymore, or at least not at this point, and he needed something to eat.

He remembered the way to the kitchen, and was quiet enough to get in without anyone seeing him. No one else was there, and he was able to take his time in looking through the cabinets. He found oat biscuits and cheese, and stuffed them unceremoniously in his mouth.

They were simple, but the taste was so good. They were fresh, the biscuits flaky and the cheese rich and sharp on his tongue. He had never eaten anything like that. The food in Gundabad he had eaten quickly so that he wouldn't taste it. Slaves were never given good quality food, and they never knew if it was still really edible. They ate it anyway, because what other choice did they have? The food on the march had been better, but that was all travel food unless someone had brought down fresh meat. That was rare, though, because with the noise that many Dwarves made animals kept out of their path.

He had known that Dwalin's family was rich. He had known that Dwalin's family was influential. But until that moment, he hadn't understood what that meant. What that meant was that they never went hungry, and their food was better than anything he had ever eaten. Even when it was a simple biscuit and slice of cheese.

By the time he was aware of what he was doing, he had finished all the biscuits, and more than half of the wheel of cheese was gone. He panicked a little at that. One biscuit and a slice of cheese might have gone unnoticed, or might has been thought by each member of the family to be someone else. But the amount he had eaten would certainly be remarked. He didn't know how long it was supposed to last, and worried about what the consequences of his actions might be.

He made his way back to Dwalin's room and hid. He didn't want to be there when someone saw what he had done, because he didn't know what the punishment would be. He curled up on the warm, soft bed, wrapping a blanket around himself. Memories of making love there earlier in the day helped. The reminder of Dwalin's love helped. Dwalin would make sure he didn't get in too much trouble.

He had a moment of fear, though, when his lover entered the room. Dwalin was raging - mouth twisted in a snarl, brows drawn down in anger. Nori shivered and tried to make himself smaller. He had never seen his lover quite like this and was afraid. Dwalin's grip was bruising hard when he pulled Nori to his feet, but as soon as he noticed the fear he gentled. It was a tenuous gentleness, and Nori could tell it wouldn't take much for him to lose it. He thought about offering himself - he was stronger than many thought him and if possessing him would bring back the kind, warm Dwalin then it was worth it.

But Dwalin didn't like him to offer. He always said to only offer when he wanted, and right now.... Right now, he _did not want_. He only wanted his Dwalin back, but he knew no other way to get that. He tried to be fearless and stepped forward to press against him, eyes closed as he clung. He leaned against Dwalin's chest and heard the frantic beat of his heart and the stutter in his breath.

He gasped softly at the revelation. Dwalin wasn't only angry. He was also frightened and sad. And that bled away Nori's fear. He pressed even closer, arms sliding around his lover's chest. He nuzzled in, truly fearless now, allowing his body to melt against Dwalin's, proof that he was there no matter what.

And that was enough. A great shudder ran through the large Dwarf's body, and his clutching hands became a caress. "I've never fought with him like that before," he whispered, voice breaking.

"Should we leave?" Nori asked, and Dwalin held him tighter.

"No. He is wrong, not you. Not any of you. I will not allow harm to come to you." He dropped his head, burying his face in Nori's hair. "I love you," he breathed.

Nori echoed the words, voice the barest whisper. And he did his best to ease the anger and pain of the one who meant the most to him in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My search skills are failing me. Can anyone link me images of fancy men's clothes that _aren't_ suit and tie? It really isn't Dwarf fashion....


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori talks to his father-in-law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update. Fundin isn't really all that bad.

It had been a very long day, full of new things and strong emotions. Dwalin was sound asleep in bed, arms around Nori, but Nori couldn't sleep. He lay still for a while, trying to take comfort in the strong arms that were wrapped so carefully around him. But after what seemed like hours he understood that he would not be able to go to sleep.

He slipped silently away, tucking the blankets around Dwalin tenderly, and closed the door silently behind him. The house was large and dark with no one awake, but he had enough night vision after the time he had spent trying to sleep that he could ghost easily down the halls and through the rooms without making noise. There were thick carpets on the floor, and paintings and tapestries on the walls. There were shelves lined with books, mounted weapons, instruments.

He wondered if Dwalin played. Some of the slaves who had been taken when older could, and they would make themselves instruments out of bits of wood and bone and string. Nori could whistle but he knew no instrument and it was always Dori who sang to Ori. He hoped Dwalin could play.

There was a line of light framing a door that was ajar. Curious, he went to it, easing his way in with his eyes squinted get used to the light. He had thought everyone asleep, but either he was wrong or someone had left a light burning. If it was the second, he could put it out. Leaving it going was wasteful.

There was a rustle of movement at his entrance, so he obviously wasn't alone. He blinked several times, clearing his vision, and saw Fundin sitting in a large armchair. He fell to his knees, dropping his head. His hair helped hide his face and his braids swung at his temples, the glint of green helping reassure him.

There was no verbal acknowledgement of his presence, but he could hear movement and wakeful breathing and after a long moment he was desperate enough to speak without invitation. "Please use me."

"What?"

He shivered but rushed forward. "Instead of the halfs. Instead of my brother. Use me. You can do anything, just please don't hurt them."

There was a grunt, then the alternate sounds of a booted foot and the metal prophetic hitting the floor. Nori shivered more, tense but still on his knees. Fundin was large - as large as Dwalin. He could do all kinds of damage if he beat him. And if he wanted something else.... He resolutely didn't think of that.

"Stand up."

Nori scrambled to his feet. A calloused finger hooked under his chin and raised his head. He slowly raised his eyes and found himself looking up into eyes that were midnight blue in the firelight. Fundin had chalk white hair and both scars and wrinkles crossing his face.

"I don't harm children," he said clearly. "No matter whose they are."

Nori couldn't help the relief that bloomed in his eyes or the smile that graced his lips. He could see Fundin startle a little and then smile back. The old man sat again, stretching out both legs.

"Tell me about yourself." It was an order, and Nori fell into parade rest as he'd learned it from Dwalin's soldiers. The man's lips quirked into another smile.

"I-- I worked in the factories."

"And when you weren't there?"

When he wasn't there he was being used by fighters, but he couldn't say that. Not to the father of the man who wanted to marry him. "I spent as much time as I could with my brothers," he answered instead, because that was true as well.  
Fundin waved a hand at him. "And what did you do with that time? Do you read?"

"No," he answered.

"So you can't write."

"No," he answered in a smaller voice.

"Do you know Khuzdul?"

The ones who knew it wanted to keep it a secret for themselves. "A little."

"Iglishmêk?"

"No, sir." Nori's hands were clenched behind his back. He had nothing to offer - that much was being made infinitely clear. Dwalin deserved so much more.

Fundin looked him up and down. "My son loves you enough to threaten his own brother."

Nori's eyes widened and he had to drop his head again.

"You are more than your lacks, Nori son of Durin. I know this from Dwalin's devotion. I hope this kingdom will be able to make your life fuller. Yours and all who came with you."

He risked a glance, and Fundin caught his eye again. "All," he repeated. "I do not love them, but even the bastard children of Orcs deserve better than what you all had."

"Thank you, sir," Nori whispered, voice shaking. He bowed deeply, not sure how else he could express his gratitude.

"You are free. Don't bow to an old soldier like me."

Nori straightened slowly and saluted. He waited for the man to wave him away and then he retreated through the dark hallways and back to Dwalin. He had been acknowledged. It was more than he had hoped for. He crawled back in with his lover, clinging and near tears with the ups and downs of the day and the hope he had just been given.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori gets work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, considering Nori is Óin's protege, there is medical stuff in this chapter. Which I'm probably doing _all wrong_. But if you pretend, I will too.
> 
> I'm thinking there will be a few more shortish chapters that cover several aspects of settling into Erebor and then we'll finish with a wedding. Does that sound good to everyone?

Nori kept close as he followed Óin. The section of Erebor they were in was far more crowded than the area around home, and Nori had still not been out on his own there. Óin walked fast, and Nori had to keep his eyes on the healer so he wouldn't lose him. He would have liked to look around, but that would just end up with him being left alone in an unfamiliar place with no way home.

He was wearing his new clothes, the first things he had worn that hadn't belonged to someone else first. The first things that had ever fit him properly. The tunic was fine linen, soft and cool against his skin. The sleeves were wide and tied at his wrists, and there were ties at the throat but Dwalin had told him to leave those open. His tunic was a dark green, thick wool that would keep him warm. It was Dwalin's favored color, he knew, and he liked the sign of belonging.

Dwalin had seen him naked any number of times, but the first time he wore something new the look in his lover's eyes was enough that he still blushed when he thought about it.

"Here we are," Óin said at last, motioning Nori to precede him into a building.

It smelled like medicine inside, and Óin slowed enough that Nori could look around curiously as they walked down well lit halls and past people bustling around purposefully. Óin opened a door and motioned Nori through again, but the hall beyond was much quieter and Nori wondered if they should be there. Óin walked confidently, though, so Nori just continued following obediently.

"Ashnal!" the healer finally called. "Kalas! I've brought you a new apprentice." He put a hand proudly on Nori's shoulder, and the younger Dwarf ducked his head in pleased embarrassment.

"Who is he?" one of the others asked.

"This is Nori son of Durin. He worked with me on the last march and has a sure touch and a comforting heart."

Nori's cheeks reddened at the praise, leaning into the touch, and glanced up through his hair at the healers who were looking him over with interest.

"We'll just give him the standard test and see where to place him."

Óin's hand tightened slightly and Nori looked up at him with concern. "He doesn't read or write."

The faces changed from interested to sneering dismissal. "If he can't read he's no use to us."

Óin frowned darkly. "Then I will take him somewhere they are more concerned with healing and less concerned with rank. More than half the mountain can't read, and there are craftsmen more talented among them than many of those who would seek your aid."

He turned to sweep away, but an apprentice burst through the doors wild eyed and panicked.

"Ashnal, there was a cave in! We have a patient with the worst breaks I've ever seen in both legs and one of his arms, and there's probably other problems as well!"

"We'll take him," Óin said, anger forgotten.

He hurried into the main arteries of the hospital with the apprentice leading the way to the intake room and the other two healers at their heels. They heard the screaming before they got there and Nori's pace increased. He burst into the room, seeing two workers cleaning the patient and dismissing them from his mind as unimportant. Instead, he approached the patient, taking his head in his hands and carefully feeling for bumps and breaks while he touched their foreheads together and murmured comforting words.

Glazed blue eyes met his and the man quieted, leaning into him. He heard the three healers examining behind him, consulting with each other and the apprentices, but his focus was all on calming the patient and keeping him still. They had no idea about internal injuries yet, and moving would just bring him closer to death.

Finally, Óin called to him. "Keep him still. We're going to set the breaks."

Nori glanced up to nod his understanding and braced himself to hold the man's body down. He continued to whisper to him, encouraged to see that the eyes could focus on him despite the pain. There hadn't been significant breaks in his head either, so he would have all his wits if they could heal his body.

He winced at the ragged screams that accompanied bones being set, but didn't move away. When splints were put in his hands he kissed the man's brow and set to work with the splints while the healers assessed internal damage and started writing instructions and treating it.

He he new clothes were covered in blood and sweat by the time they were done and he felt bad for ruining them so quickly. But he had other clothes at home, an idea that was strange and pleasing. And the patient was resting in a drugged sleep that would help him heal, and that was the most important part.

He sat at the man's bedside afterward, holding his good hand. He knew from experience that it was better if someone was there even if you weren't conscious, and Óin was talking with the other healers and wanted him occupied elsewhere. After the frantic work they had been doing, it felt almost unnaturally still in the room, but he took deep breaths, letting himself calm into it.

The door slammed open and _prince Thorin_ entered the room calling "Frerin!" Nori shrank back in his chair. The prince was coming to see this man, so he must have done something wrong by treating him as he had. While Thorin hovered, anxiously looking at everything that had been done, Nori slipped out of the room and found Óin.

The healer clapped him on the shoulder and led the way back out of the building. "You start tomorrow," he said and Nori looked up at him with wide eyes. "They were impressed. I will come with you for training while I'm in the mountain, which probably made them more inclined to accept you as well."

Nori smiled, thinking of all the things he had to tell Dwalin and his brothers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some domesticity.

Dóra had immediately started teaching the freed slaves living with her how to read and write. Ori took to it immediately, and there were a few of the younger children who did as well. Many of them learned slowly having trouble with the small differences between letters and the way they went together. Nori kept at it because he wanted to be worthy of Dwalin.

Once he started working at the hospital, he had another reason to work hard. Even after they had accepted him as an apprentice, the fact that he couldn't read was looked on with contempt. And he would be hung before he let anyone sneer at him like that.

The job meant, of course, that there was less time he could have Dóra help him. Balin took to instructing him in the evenings, but he had not taught before and was easily frustrated. It got Nori's back up, because he knew he wasn't _stupid_ , but the letters and words didn't make proper sense. The letters didn't really _mean_ anything, so how could you know them?

Ori did, though. Evenings had always been family time, and he sat at the table next to Nori, writing and drawing. Nori recognized things they'd seen on the march, buildings and people nearby, even a few drawings of the slave caverns. The work was raw, but every day a little better. And Ori helped him with his reading.

Frerin also helped him. They may have been impressed with his calm under pressure, but the heads of the hospital were still testing him. He had much of the care of the younger prince and spent most of his day in the man's room. Frerin was easy to talk to and eager to talk. He was an active man by nature and being forced to lie in a bed all day was wearing. They played games - Frerin teaching them to Nori - and worked on reading together.

With all of that, by the time he went to bed at night Nori was good for nothing but sleep. He curled up in Dwalin's arms, but they did nothing more than kiss and sleep.

The morning of his first day off - Óin had had to explain the idea of a regular day that was free of work twice before Nori completely understood - he woke with a start and immediately started to get up to get ready for work. He was stopped short by Dwalin's arms around him.

"You have nowhere to be this morning," his lover said, voice rough with sleep.

And he _didn't_ and it was almost beyond understanding. Nori fell back into Dwalin's embrace, marveling at the idea that he had no reason not to stay there. But he was awake and nothing would get him back to sleep. He turned, saw the look in Dwalin's eyes, and didn't want to go back to sleep.

He lay back, allowed his lover to cover him, and they didn't get out of bed until nearly midday.

Dóra was having a hot drink in the kitchen when they finally emerged, flushed and smiling at each other.

"Sleep well?" she asked with deceptive innocence, and Dwalin blushed bright red.

"Yes," Nori answered, sitting and taking some of the cold meats and bread that was out on the table. " _Very_."

He hadn't thought Dwalin could blush any darker, but he was wrong.

"Good. Óin said he would be back at the second bell of the afternoon and said he hoped you were done by then."

Nori's good cheer dropped. "But he said there was no work today," he said in a small voice, wondering what kind trouble he was in.

"There isn't," Dóra assured while Dwalin put a comforting hand on each shoulder. "So just eat well and wait for him." She rose and plucked at her son's sleeve. "And you can help me with my shopping."

Despite being significantly taller and broader, Dwalin went obediently. He glanced back a few times at Nori, who tried to smile at him.

Óin was punctual. There was a knock at the door almost before the bell faded. Nori invited him inside, giving him food and the most comfortable chair and sitting nervously across from him. He had never had to be host before, but he was the only one home.

"I finally got your pay, lad. For the trip home." Óin passed over a purse and drank his tea.

Nori looked at it with wide eyes, having forgotten all about the promise of pay.

"What are you going to do with it?"

Nori blinked at him. "What am I allowed to do with it?"

The teacup clicked down in its saucer and Óin stood. "We're going to the market now. Come along."

Nori trotted obediently at his heels. They reached the market in a few minutes and Óin gestured to it. "What do you want?"

Nori goggled again, drifting from one stall to another and periodically shooting glances at Óin to make sure it was okay. The first thing to catch his eye was a paint box. The colors were shown next to it in a painting of the mountain in autumn. They were bright and rich and he could just imagine what Ori could do with them.

"Can I buy that?" he asked Óin. The older man looked at the price and made the purchase.

It was exhilarating to have liked something and then made it his. Nori had never done that before - not when he was allowed to. He turned back to the market, seeing it with new eyes. There were things there that _could be his_. There were things that he could give his brothers. And he couldn't wait to find them.

By the time they returned home, he had also gotten ribbons for Dori - just the right shade of purple to bring out both the brown and the white in his hair. And he had gotten a wide ear slip for Dwalin, gold with dark emeralds and shape picked out in silver.

His brothers admired the gifts, as stunned as he was at the idea that they could own things. But the look on Dwalin's face was the thing that Nori liked the best. Dwalin was stunned, but obviously not for the same reason as his brothers.

"You could have spent the money on yourself," he whispered into Nori's lips. "You don't need to get me presents."

Nori nuzzled into him, glad Dwalin had waited until they were alone so he could kiss him as much as he wanted. "I wanted to get it for you," he said. "I don't need anything for myself. I want to give things to my brothers. And to you. Because I love you."

Dwalin set about to drown him in kisses, and Nori leaned into it, feeling as if he had been given the perfect gift as well.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding preparations take months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and as I got married in my backyard and my parents arranged the party months later, I probably don't know the half of it.

"You never said you were _forged together_."

Nori startled at the offended tone and buried his face in Dwalin's shoulder. They weren't exactly in private, but the sitting room they were in was rarely used, especially since Balin had found homes for the halfs. Still, perhaps he should have held strong until they were in their room. Having Balin walk in on them when Nori's shirt was pushed up and Dwalin's hands were caressing the skin of his abdomen was embarrassing. The fact that Balin must have heard the needy moans he was making as Dwalin bit at his throat made him want to curl up and hide.

And he couldn't pull away to be out of sight because then Balin would see that he was still rock hard despite his feelings of shame.

"What does it matter?" Dwalin asked, and Nori gasped and shuddered at the feel of his warm breath over the spot he had just been biting. Dwalin kissed the spot in apology, and Nori had to bite his lip to keep in the moan.

"What does it matter?" Balin repeated incredulously, apparently too agitated to pay attention to Nori. "The prayers are different! The vows are different! The contract is different! Half the ceremony is different! You should _know these things_ , Dwalin!"

"So we'll change them. We've still got four months, Balin."

Balin gave a few huffing sighs before replying. "We were going to have the ceremony in Westron because Nori doesn't speak Khuzdul. We can't for the proper ceremony. We have _four months_ to teach him enough Khuzdul to recite his vows."

"Then we will," Dwalin said, voice tighter as he started to get annoyed at his brother's pessimism. "Just get me the vows and I'll--"

"You will do nothing. He can't say them to you until the ceremony. And if you'd just told us to start, we'd have more than a month more to work on it."

"How did you find out, since I still haven't told you?"

"Mother introduced Ori to poetry. He said he was going to try his hand at an epic romance."

"And he thought of us?" Dwalin asked, grinning.

"It's not like he has much experience with romance," Balin answered with a sniff. "And it's not like you're careful about where you engage in your 'romance,'" he added with a disapproving glance. Nori hid his face again while Balin finished. "We'll start when you're done here."

"He makes me feel like I'm twenty again," Dwalin muttered when his brother was gone.

Almost an hour later, Nori sat obediently in Balin's study and listened to him explain the changes to the wedding plans. There were so many details it made Nori's head spin. Specific prayers, the order of the ceremony, who should perform it. He hadn't understood y of it in he he first place, so the changes meant nothing to him.

Not until the new vows were pulled out. He looked at the cirth with terror and determination. If this was what he needed to do to let everyone know he was Dwalin's, this was what he would learn.

Balin practiced with him for an hour every evening, the vows replacing the time they had spent on reading. _Who would I be without you?_

Dóra met with him periodically in the library to practice the vows and review the rest of the ceremony so he wouldn't make a fool of himself. _I pledge myself to you today and all of my tomorrows._

Ori read them with him in the evening, eyes wide and bright at the meaning of the words. _You are my life; you are my dreams; you are my joy; you are my love; you are my everything._

Frerin and the other healers drilled him during the day, reciting and repeating the words during slow times and gossiping about Dwalin and about weddings and marriage. _I did not know I could love this deeply, and now, I do not know how not to._

Dori listened to him late into the night when he slept with his brothers, not understanding the words but able to hear when he mispronounced something. _May our hearts beat as one in times of gladness as in times of sadness._

Frerin had his casts removed and they started working on rehabilitating his legs and arm so they could be used easily. Nori didn't need to stay with him nearly as much and was given other duties around the hospital. He was glad of it, because as time went on he became more nervous about the wedding.

There was so much that needed to be done for it. There were lists of people who had been invited, and now a pile of replies showing people who he had never met who would get their first impression of him as he tried to recite his vows. Balin and Dóra had made the menu, chosen the decorations, decided where to have it.

When it was only a month away, he started having trouble sleeping. He would slip out of bed so he wouldn't wake Dwalin, and walk the halls whispering to himself in Khuzdul. The third time it happened, he walked into a room before noting that there was a light. He stood dazzled by it for a long moment before he recognized that Fundin was already there.

Fundin was always something of a distant presence, not as welcoming as Dóra or as busy with them as Balin. Despite assurances, Nori was never certain where he stood with the older man. But it took very little for him to end up kneeling at the side of Fundin's armchair be corrected more gently than he had been by anyone else and finally losing the panic that kept him up at nights. _I will hold you in my heart just as I hold you in my arms._

It was only a day or two after that that Dóra brought him back to the tailor to be fitted in his wedding clothes. The idea of it boggled his mind. He already had more clothes than he had ever had before. He had gold and gems that Dwalin kept making him. He had money of his own to get things for himself and for his brothers and his lover. He could give things to the other freed slaves and to the other apprentices. And he just kept getting more. It was beyond comprehension.

It was less than a year since he had met Dwalin and everything had changed. He was free. He had work he wanted. He wasn't beaten anymore. He and his brothers were safe and could acknowledge each other. He was loved, as deeply as anyone could be loved, and he loved in return every bit as deeply. He was well fed, well clothed, well treated.

The slave who had traded his body for protection and knew all the ways to be unseen was a respected and well loved apprentice healer. Some days he couldn't believe it was real. Those were the days Dwalin held him and whispered words of such emotion that Nori was nearly brought to tears and believed with everything in him.

Those were the days he didn't need the translation to remember the meaning of his vows. _I cannot express how much I love you with just simple words._

He could not. So he expressed with his lips and his touch all the things words were inadequate for. And he practiced his vows in his head, filling his senses with Dwalin. _At this moment you are all that I know and all that I see._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marriage contract - to get my Jew on again. I have actually looked up a good 5 texts for Jewish marriage contracts and have cut and pasted and edited to get one for them. (I will probably put the full thing up somewhere.)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding!

The three days before a wedding, the parties weren't allowed to see one another. Nori had been told several reasons for it. It gave a bit of distance, and there were times when one or another had a change of heart in those last days. It allowed for final preparations that couldn't be seen. It gave families time for final bits of advice and last minute alterations.

Nori used that time to just lounge with his brothers. There was no thought of him changing his mind. He had had time without Dwalin during the march and he never wanted to go through that again. Dori and Ori were just as new to their situation as he was, so there was little advice they could give him. And Balin had seen to the final preparations himself.

So they sat together and talked. They talked about slavery and freedom. They talked about family and how much it meant to have each other. They talked about friendship and opportunity and everything that was new and wonderful in Erebor. They talked about what frightened them as well, holding one another close and safe as they had tried to do in Gundabad. At night, they slept all cuddled together as they always had until Dwalin.

It was good to have had those days. They talked very little about the wedding. None of them had been to one. They had spent months speculating and with the actual thing so close that had lost its appeal. And after thinking about it so intensely for so long, thinking about everything but it helped Nori relax and rest.

Finally it was time and Dori pulled out their clothes so they could help one another get dressed. Nori was the fanciest, of course, but his brothers also had more than they were used to dealing with.

Nori had a shirt of a fine, soft fabric dyed the palest of greens. The tunic over it was a rusty brown intricately embroidered in greens and gold with sleeves slashed to show the green of his shirt. His trousers were brown and made soft whispering sounds when he walked, and his ankle high boots were of the softest leather so he could walk almost silently.

There was a crown, made to match one Dwalin would wear. It was made of slender wires of gold twisted and knotted together to spell out blessings. Ori was the one who turned it around to find the knot that meant "love," which he settled right on his brother's brow. Dwalin had made the rest of his jewels, gold and emeralds all. He had beads in his hair, clips on his ears, a pendant resting just above his heart.

Dori was in rich purples and silver. Ori wore dark gold and a fine, powdery blue, colors that weren't so bright they would make him look like nothing in contrast but also not so pale he would fade to nothing but white. Dóra had chosen the colors and shades for him, and see sure people who looked would see him and not his clothes.

Nori pulled them close one more time, resting their heads together, and they took a moment just to breathe. And then there was a knock at the door and one of the soldiers of the company led them to the cavern where the ceremony would be held.

They heard it long before they got there. Everyone waiting would sing, play, or clap to welcome them. Balin had explained that rather late in the preparations, often forgetting just how much the brothers didn't know. _A wedding isn't only two individuals joining. It is two families and a whole community. Everyone rejoices._

The cavern was deep in the mountain, so no sunlight could get to it, and there were no fires lit. But it wasn't dark, because everyone singing for them held a candle. _Those around us light our way, helping us to see and to know where we should go._

At the center, Nori saw the canopy waiting. The clean, white cloth was held up on poles to shelter the two of them as they took their vows - their first "home" together as a married pair. It was white because they were new together, and as their marriage aged the cloth would be filled with their shared life. Ori had asked how that happened when it was explained, but Balin just smiled at him. The boy had spent hours lying on Fundin and Dóra's bed, staring up at what their canopy had to tell about their marriage. 

Nori and his brothers stopped just outside the canopy, getting to it just as Dwalin and his parents and brother did. Dwalin looked wonderful in Nori's eyes. He was in dark red with fur trim and it was the first time Nori had seen him dressed formally. He was everything good in the world and Nori couldn't tear his eyes away. 

Dwalin reached out to him and Nori took both of Dwalin's hands in his own. Together, they left their families and stepped under the canopy. The crowd hushed behind them and the officiant stepped forward, stopping just outside the canopy. 

The first prayer called everyone to witness, the friends and family in the chamber, the larger community of Dwarves wherever they were, and the divine far away. It was a short one, calling on everyone to listen and take the couple into their hearts. 

After that were the prayers of thanksgiving for bringing them all to this time. Prayers for joy and health. Prayers for the good of the couple and community. Prayers of gladness for the joining of two people and two souls. Prayers about the fires of the creator that forged the souls of the Dwarves and sometimes reformed them together as one. 

There was a goblet passed to Dwalin and Nori, filled with sweet water that they shared with hands still intertwined.

They only said their vows near the end. Dwalin went first, voice low and strong. His eyes never left Nori's and he never wavered. And then it was Nori's turn and he felt Dwalin squeeze his hands in encouragement. He didn't stumble once, so caught in the eyes of his beloved that he forgot everything else around him. 

The quartet holding up the canopy gave a shout and released it. It billowed down to shroud Dwalin and Nori, and they heard laughter and singing frown the crowd. Nori let go of Dwalin's hands and reached up to pull him close, mouths coming together for the first time in days. Dwalin's kisses were always the best, and Nori lost himself in it, not even noticing the cheers that started when the canopy was folded to be brought home and put over their bed. 

They were grabbed up and carried out of the ceremony chamber and to the place where the feast was laid out. And what a feast it was! Nori didn't think he had ever seen so much food in one place. There were roasts tender and dripping with juices. There were loaves and rolls of so many different breads he lost track. There were tureens of thick chowder. There were piles of vegetables, both fried crunchy and soft from cooking with the roasts. There were pastries and sweets. There were legs of ale and bottles of wine. 

There was so much that when Nori was put in his seat all he could do was stare. Dwalin filled up a plate and fed him off it because he was overwhelmed with choices. But that care was one of the things Nori loved, and he leaned against Dwalin's side and didn't pay attention to the food going into his mouth. 

There was singing and celebrating going on around them. But it had been days since they had seen each other, and Nori only had eyes for Dwalin. 

"I love you," he whispered. 

Dwalin smiled at him and cradled his face in both big hands. He leaned down and kissed him so tenderly that it took his breath away. 

And then they were pulled apart and thrown into the dancing. Everyone wanted to congratulate them - all the freed slaves, the soldiers, the healers, Dwalin's extended family. They were hugged, pulled in every direction as everyone claimed a moment of their time. And after the dancing and the eating someone started shouting for speeches. 

Balin was prepared, of course. He said how happy the family was be expanded, how much joy he saw when the two of them were together, how glad he was that Nori had come into his brother's life. He presented them with rings that were smaller versions of their crowns and wished them every happiness in life. Nori was surprised at the sincerity of his voice and the affection in his embrace after everything, and he hugged back hard. 

Someone pushed Dori forward. He looked briefly panicked, but rallied quickly. Dwalin had saved them all. He had put hope into the hearts of the hopeless and there was none he would trust with his brother's safety and happiness the way he trusted Dwalin. He hugged them both, whispering to Nori how happy he was, and Nori had trouble letting him go. 

There were more speeches by people he knew and those he didn't. There were congratulations and toasts, hugs and gifts, and Nori grew more and more overwhelmed as the evening moved on. 

Finally, someone pushed Dwalin and he rose. "I've never been good with words," he said and held out a hand. Someone put a viol in it, and he put the bow to the strings. The music filled the room and Nori wasn't the only one crying by the time he was finished. Dwalin laid the viol aside and took Nori in his arms. They kissed deeply, and everything was right with the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two other works that I've been seriously neglecting to write this, so I'm going to go and work on them.
> 
> But I have a number of things in here that I'm going to go back and write for sides. Things like Óin yelling and Dwalin, Dwalin yelling at Balin, Nori yelling at Dori, Fíli and Kíli being recruited to befriend Ori (which includes no yelling), and possibly some of that smut I keep _wanting to write_ and failing at. If there is anything you are curious about or want more of, please let me know!


End file.
